


waiting for something that hasn't come through

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Series: bickering idiots in love [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Human AU, the one where eleven is presh and river hates him, this is alyssa's fault gdi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like most people, she didn’t choose her family. Amy chose her in a way, and Rory always loved anything Amy loved. It was a disconcerting day when River discovered she was not the first Pond adoptee. That honor belonged to the man currently on stage enthusiastically butchering Simon and Garfunkel’s Mrs. Robinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it might come along soon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavenisalibrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenisalibrary/gifts).



> A/N: Based on this prompt: 
> 
> "Our asshole mutual friends set us up on a blind date and didn’t tell us it was a blind date, so instead of getting to know each other we spent the entire ‘date’ scheming against them and decided an awesome way to get back at them would be to pretend to date and then have a horrendous breakup but now that we’re two months into this charade we’re not sure what’s real and what’s fake anymore” AU
> 
> Story and chapter titles from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Love by Hello Saferide.

Jim Fish’s Karaoke Bar is a Friday night staple of Pond Family tradition – a family River has been a part of since her freshman year at University. Like most people, she didn’t choose her family. Amy chose her in a way, and Rory always loved anything Amy loved. It was a disconcerting day when River discovered she was not the first Pond adoptee. That honor belonged to the man currently on stage enthusiastically butchering Simon and Garfunkel’s Mrs. Robinson – the man affectionately known as Amy’s Raggedy Doctor.

 

“It’s a shame,” she remarks, picking up her last shot.

 

Clapping along and laughing, eyes on the stage, Amy asks, “What is?”

 

“I used to like this song.” She knocks back her drink and sets the glass on the table, swatting Amy when she nudges her with a bony elbow. “What? You can’t actually be enjoying this. He’s horrid.”

 

“Well, yeah.” Amy turns from her warbling childhood friend to frown at her. “But that’s what makes it so brilliant.”

 

On the other side of the booth, Rory shrugs, looking apologetic. “It is sort of funny.”

 

“Traitor,” River mutters, glaring at the stage.

 

“Oh come on.” Amy grins, nudging her again. “At least give him credit for bravery. I wouldn’t step foot on that stage if I was as rubbish as him.”

 

River exchanges a look with Rory, who stifles a smile.

 

Amy gapes at him, brow furrowing. “Oi! I’m good!”

 

Rory reaches across the table to pat her hand.

 

Snatching it away with a scowl, Amy turns back to the stage just as her floppy-haired best mate mercifully finishes destroying a classic. Whooping and hollering, she cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Atta boy, Raggedy Man!”

 

As he moves to jump off the stage, the Doctor – honestly, what sort of pretentious twat calls himself the Doctor – looks up to wave and ends up stumbling right over the edge. Amy winces, Rory looks unconcerned, and River rolls her eyes, sinking back into the booth. “A grand finale for a grand disaster,” she mutters.

 

Amy elbows her again as the Doctor climbs to his feet on ungainly giraffe legs. “You shush.” As the Doctor walks up to their table still blushing, she laughs. “Break anything this time?”

 

Rory scoots over, letting him slide into the booth beside him. “His pride, maybe.”

 

“Nah, gone a long time ago, mate.” The Doctor beams, running a nervous hand through his hair. “How was it?”

 

Amy hesitates. “Entertaining.”

 

River snorts.

 

Eyes focusing on her instantly, the Doctor bites his lip. “That bad, eh?”

 

“Well,” River shrugs. “I’ve certainly never heard Mrs. Robinson in that key before. Or any other song, really.”

 

“River,” Amy hisses.

 

The Doctor laughs, hazel eyes warm and amused as he watches River. “It’s alright, Pond. I’m not trying to be Bowie up there. It’s just fun.”

 

“Exactly.” Amy glares at River. “Fun. You should try it sometime.”

 

“I have plenty of fun,” River sniffs at her. “Can I help it you don’t approve?”

 

Rory coughs into his drink, offering her a quelling look when she glowers. “To be fair, that’s because your idea of fun is calling from Cairo to ask for bail money.”

 

“I did that once,” River grumbles. Sensing the Doctor’s eyes still on her, no doubt laughing at her expense, she crosses her arms over her chest and refuses to look at him. “And it wasn’t my fault. That pathetic excuse for a tomb robber was asking for it.”

 

Amy rolls her eyes. “Or how about the time when you stole some priceless artifact from a gang of thugs.”

 

“It didn’t belong to you either, you know.” Rory fixes her with that look of fatherly disapproval and River huffs.

 

“Of course not. It belonged in a museum!”

 

Amy lifts a brow at her. “And did you take it to a museum?”

 

“Eventually.” River bristles. “I had to transcribe the writings and take photographs first.”

 

The Doctor, who had been watching them all in silent amusement until now, finally interjects with a snort of derision. “A museum is nothing but a place for the masses to experience culture without having to actually go anywhere.”

 

Feeling the heat of indignation flush her cheeks, River bares her teeth at him. “Museums are places to preserve important pieces of history while still allowing the public to view them because despite what you think, not everyone can swan off whenever they like to travel. Some people have jobs and families and responsibilities. I suppose you can count yourself lucky you don’t have any of those.”

 

He visibly flinches at that, ducking his head with a pained smile. “Well, I suppose you’re right about that.”

 

River doesn’t look at Amy but she can practically feel her friend’s eyes burning a hole into the side of her head. She purses her lips and does not apologize. The Doctor can certainly stand to be humbled every now and again – he always thinks he’s right about absolutely everything. Bruising a man’s ego is certainly a thankless job but someone has to do it.

 

“Enough of that, you two. Don’t make me separate you.” Rory eyes them sternly, calm but still disapproving enough to make River feel a twinge of remorse. “Amy, you’re up, aren’t you?”

 

Brightening, Amy nods. “Two more drinks and I think I’ll be drunk enough.”

 

Lifting his head, the Doctor grins. “Tequila, yeah? I’ll fetch the shots. Anybody else want anything? River?”

 

She shakes her head, managing a polite smile. “I’m fine, thanks.”

 

As he stumbles his way toward the bar, Amy turns on her. “What the hell? I ask you to get along with him for one night and -” She pauses, watching River try to subtly check the time on her mobile. “Got somewhere else to be?”

 

River frowns, tucking her phone away. “You can’t expect me to sit here for -”

 

“You can’t bail early!” Latching onto her arm, Amy pouts at her. “The Doctor is never in town and when he is, you’re hardly ever free.”

 

She was only free this time because Amy failed to mention the Doctor was here until he showed up at their booth. There is a reason she tends to avoid Amy’s childhood friend. He’s absolutely the most irritating human being she has ever met and it never takes more than a few minutes in his presence before she feels her hand itching to slap him. Equally irritating is the Doctor’s cluelessness. She’ll snap and glare and all but snarl at the man but he just keeps bloody smiling at her. If there’s one thing River cannot tolerate, it’s a stupid nemesis.

 

Sighing patiently, River pries Amy’s slender hand from her forearm. “Amy, you know we don’t get along -”

 

“No, _you_ don’t get along with _him_. Why, River? How can you not like him?” The wide-eyed confusion on Amy’s face might have been more convincing if River didn’t know her theatrics so well by now. “Have you seen him? He’s adorable!”

 

Across the booth from them, Rory winces but nods in silent agreement.

 

River huffs. “He’s a smug, arrogant git in love with his motorcycle. Forgive me if I don’t find that as precious as the two of you.”

 

“If you would just get to know him -”

 

River gives her hand a firm pat and places it back on her side of the booth where it belongs. “I know him as well as I’d like, Amy.”

 

Before she can whinge further, the Doctor returns with drinks. River has never been so happy to see him. She very nearly smiles at the idiot. Just as she’s beginning to think she might actually make it through the rest of the night, Amy tosses back her first shot and slams the glass on the table with a loud, “So River, the Doctor just got back from Egypt.”

 

Resisting the urge to glare at her, River forces a look of polite interest. “Oh?”

 

The Doctor is always off somewhere. They have that in common, only River travels for work and the Doctor travels as a way of life. According to Amy, he’s been aimless his whole life, an orphan who made the world his home. Sometimes, she wonders if the reason she doesn’t like the Doctor is because he feels like a mirrored, clumsy, floppy-haired version of herself.

 

He leans his elbows on the table, looking eager now that they’re going to be talking about him. “I was in Cairo for a bit but really I was just about everywhere. I traveled with a few camel herders I met. Worked with them for a spell just to earn enough to fly back here for a bit. Actually, the camels -”

 

River feels her eyes begin to glaze over and blinks. Honestly, it probably is an interesting story but she can’t bring herself to listen. The man thinks he’s so bloody fascinating. She stands abruptly and they all blink up at her. She hadn’t been listening any longer but clearly she just interrupted the Doctor while he was trying to be impressive. “You know, I think I will have that drink. Excuse me.”

 

She climbs out of the booth and beats a hasty retreat, breathing a sigh of relief once she reaches the safety of the bar. About halfway through her glass, she acknowledges how rude her exit was and resigns herself to listening to Amy’s lecture later. This is all the Doctor’s fault. River hunches over her drink, frowns into it, and doesn’t turn around until she hears the unmistakable sound of Scottish warbling coming from the stage.

 

She turns from the bar to look and spots Amy hanging onto the microphone for balance as she croons an unfortunate rendition of Beyonce’s Partition. River laughs, clapping loudly for her. At their booth, the Doctor seems to be listening intently to the words, if the color of his cheeks is any indication, but Rory makes a fantastic ruckus as he cheers for his wife. It’s usually River over there embarrassing Amy with her drunken shouting but she can’t stomach the idea of going back to that table.

 

Arrogant smugness she could forgive. She’s certainly been guilty of it herself. But there is something else about the Doctor she can’t ignore. Something that makes her hands curl into fists and cheeks flush. She can never decide if she wants to slap him or… well, she could never quite decide what else she’d like to do with him. They’ve never gotten along. She’d hated him on sight the summer after her freshman year of university.

 

Maybe it’s the ridiculous hair she never liked. Or those ears. Possibly the chin. Glancing from Amy’s rather entertaining show onstage, River lets her eyes wander toward the booth where the Doctor sits. Startled to find him looking back at her instead of watching Amy, River quickly looks away again, scowling at herself for being caught.

 

It’s everything, she decides. She hates everything about Amy’s Raggedy Man.

 

-

 

_Hey what happened to you last night young lady? – A_

_Sorry dear, had early classes today. Needed sleep. – R_

_You left during my solo! – A_

_Which one? You had three. – R_

_Doesn’t matter. You bailed and now you owe me. Dinner at Vastra’s. Tonight. 7. Be there or I will find you. – A xx_

 

When River walks in to Vastra’s Bistro that night, Amy and Rory aren’t sitting at their usual table but the Doctor is. She halts in the doorway, wondering how good her chances are of escaping before he sees her. He sits alone, fiddling with the saltshaker. He drops it, of course, fumbling to catch it before it hits the floor. He ends up spilling salt everywhere and River rolls her eyes as he rushes to clean up after himself, hastily throwing salt over his shoulder.

 

He carefully puts the saltshaker back where it belongs and folds his hands in front of him, glancing around – probably checking to see if anyone had witnessed his clumsiness – and that’s when he spots her. River groans inwardly, watching his eyes light up in recognition. He lifts a hand, waving her over with a broad sweep of his arm that nearly knocks the tray out of the waitress’s hand as she serves the table behind him. Well. Nothing for it now.

 

She makes her way to his table and the first thing out of her mouth is, “What are you doing here?”

 

He tips his head to look up at her, brows raised, and she refuses to blush at her own rudeness. “Meeting Rory and Amy for dinner. You?”

 

She frowns. “Same.”

 

“Excellent.” He beams, reaching out one long, gangly leg under the table to kick out a chair. “Have a seat, Song.”

 

River grudgingly sits.

 

The Doctor beams at her. “I’ll fetch us drinks while we wait, yeah? What are you having?”

 

“I think I’ll start with a glass of red, thanks.”

 

She’ll save the stronger stuff for when he’s really getting on her nerves. As the Doctor wanders up to the bar, she takes out her mobile and taps a quick message to Amy. _Where in the bloody hell are you? – R_

 

She taps her fingers against the tabletop and waits. The Doctor returns precariously balancing drinks before Amy replies. _Oops, forgot to tell you. Rory isn’t feeling well. Can’t make it. Give our love to the Doctor! P.S. BE NICE!! - A_

 

Oh brilliant.

 

The Doctor glances up from nursing his – Christ, is that a root beer? “What’s brilliant?”

 

Damn. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Nothing. Amy and Rory can’t make it.”

 

“Ah.” The Doctor twirls his straw around in his – yes, that’s definitely a root beer – and avoids her gaze. “I suppose you’ll be going then.”

 

The dejection in his voice gives River pause. Not nearly as immune to those puppy eyes as Amy seems to think, she sighs, setting aside her phone to reach for her wine glass. “Might as well have a drink, yeah?”

 

The Doctor looks relieved, grinning into his root beer.

 

River glances around the room and tries to think of something to say. Usually, whenever she can’t avoid the Doctor, Amy and Rory are around to act as buffers. She has no idea what to say to the man that doesn’t involve bickering. “So…” She sips her wine again. “How long are you staying this time?”

 

He shrugs. “At least until the end of the semester.”

 

River pauses with her glass halfway to her mouth. “Pardon?”

 

“Well I can’t just leave the university short a professor in the middle of midterms because I’ve got a sudden hankering for Indonesian food _in_ Indonesia, can I?” He raises his brows at her, slurping root beer noisily through his straw.

 

Setting aside her drink, River struggles to make sense of his ramblings. “You have a job at a university? Teaching?” So he does have a PhD. Alright, perhaps he’s a little less pretentious than she thought. Still, she doesn’t go around asking people to call her the Professor, does she?

 

“Physics.” He beams. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

 

Her stomach fills with dread. “Why is that?”

 

He gives her a dubious look. “Because it’s the same university where you teach.”

 

River manages to keep smiling through sheer force of will. “Brilliant.”

 

Oblivious to her sarcasm, he nods. “I thought maybe we could have lunch together, yeah? Apparently the cafeteria makes wicked fish fingers.”

 

“Fish fingers? You’ve traveled the world, tasted every exotic food every culture has to offer, and you’re excited about fish fingers in a shite university cafeteria?”

 

“I like fish fingers.” He frowns, flicking at his straw with a fingertip. “What about you? You’ve traveled too, digging up dusty, boring bits of pottery.” River grits her teeth. “What makes you keep coming back here to lecture about it?”

 

He sounds bored just talking about it and River tightens her grip on the stem of her glass, contemplating throwing it at him. The look on his face before she stormed out would be a sight to behold but Amy and Rory would certainly hear about her behavior and River isn’t sure it’s worth the scolding. With a deep breath, she reigns in the wild, rebellious orphan that still lurks inside, making a conscious effort to be a grownup even if the Doctor is a pillock.

 

Moving from foster home to foster home until she was old enough to be in charge of herself made it difficult to take a real home for granted – even a place like Leadworth. She takes a gulp of her wine and doesn’t say any of that. “Lecturing pays,” she says instead. “I need the funding.”

 

“Guess that makes sense.”

 

“What about you? Why can’t you ever sit still?”

 

He peeks at her through his fringe. “I sat in a children’s home until I was seventeen. All I could think about was leaving.” He smiles humorlessly, lowering his eyes again. “Haven’t stopped since.”

 

River bites her lip and watches him avoid her gaze. It seems she has more in common with her nemesis than she thought. She feels guilty for labeling him as the free spirit who refused to grow up, never thinking to look any deeper. She above all people should know there is always more to someone than can be seen from the outside. “Share some chips with me?”

 

The Doctor smiles, his eyes soft and relieved as he nods. “I’ll order. Want another?”

 

He gestures to her empty glass and she nods. “Please.”

 

“Right then.” He unfolds his lanky limbs from his chair and stands, looking young and boyish again as he announces, “Chips and wine coming up, Song.”

 

River watches him go with a faint smile and wonders when she stopped checking her mobile for the time, waiting for a polite moment to excuse herself. The Doctor isn’t so bad when he isn’t insulting her job or going on and on about his many brilliant adventures or waxing poetic about his vintage blue motorcycle. Honestly, he talks about the thing like it’s alive.

 

As he wanders back to their table, weaving through the crowd with perilously balanced drinks and chips, she moves to put her phone away but it beeps in her hand. She ignores it long enough to get up and take the drinks from the Doctor before he trips and spills them everywhere. He smiles at her in thanks and when she finds herself smiling back, she quickly retreats to her chair and picks up her mobile, tucking her hair behind her ears.

 

“Another message from Amy,” she explains, refusing to look at him.

 

The Doctor dips a chip in his root beer and River wrinkles her nose. “How’s Rory?”

 

_Are you being nice? - A_

 

River frowns at the message and taps out a reply. _Of course I am. Is Rory feeling better?_

 

_He’s fine. - A_

 

River reaches for the chips, stealing a handful before the Doctor eats them all. “She says he’s fine.”

 

“What was wrong with him?”

 

She shrugs, watching him dunk another chip. “You’re disgusting.”

 

“Disgusting is relative, Song.” He pops the chip into his mouth and chews with extra vigor, which she suspects is just to irritate her. “Try it.”

 

“I will not.”

 

“Come on, just one taste -”

 

Her phone beeps again. River swats away the Doctor’s root beer soaked chip and glances at the screen. _So it’s going well? You haven’t left!_

 

“What’s Amy say?”

 

River kicks him beneath the table when he tries to crane his neck and see the screen. “None of your business.”

 

He pouts and eats another chip.

 

_It’s going fine, Amy. We’re adults, you know, not children._

 

Amy’s reply is instant. _Tell that to someone who hasn’t seen the two of you interact._

 

Another message immediately follows. _You should ask him to dinner!_

 

Ask him to dinner? Why would Amy want her to – _Oh_. That conniving little…

 

“River?”

 

She blinks, glancing up. The Doctor eyes her with concern.

 

“Are you alright?” When she only stares at him, her mind still turning over just what Amy has done, the Doctor fidgets. “It’s just… you look a bit scary right now.”

 

She makes a conscious effort to loosen her iron grip on her mobile and unclench her teeth. “I’m fine.”

 

He lifts a thin brow at her.

 

She sighs. “We’ve been set up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Rory isn’t sick.” River shoves her mobile into her handbag. “This whole thing was just to get us together.” The more she thinks about it, the angrier she gets. Amy knows River cannot stand being in the Doctor’s company and she still deliberately left them alone together. She fumes.

 

The Doctor watches her with wide eyes. “You mean she was trying to… this is a -”

 

“Date,” River finishes, biting the word out bitterly.

 

He blushes. “That’s… not good. Right? Of course it’s not good.”

 

Too busy glaring at her phone, River barely notices his stammering. “What was she expecting to happen? That an evening in a pub would make me realize I’m mad about her childhood playmate? It’s ridiculous!”

 

Still blushing, the Doctor scratches his cheek and gazes into his root beer. “Ridiculous,” he agrees.

 

River reaches for her wine. “She is _unbelievable_. Meddling in things that aren’t any of her business just because she thinks we’d be happier if we did things her way _and you are just sitting there_.” He blinks at her. “Why aren’t you as angry as I am?”

 

The Doctor shrugs. “Amelia does what she thinks is best. Always has. I’ve certainly never been able to stop her.”

 

Sitting up suddenly, River sets down her glass so hard wine sloshes over the side, pooling on the table. “Yet.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“You haven’t been able to stop her _yet_.”

 

The Doctor takes one look at her, eyes hooded and smirk wide, the distinct gleam of mischief in her eyes. He gulps.

 

-

 

Saturday afternoons, for as long as River has known Amy and Rory, have always been reserved for tea, chocolate crepes, and reading the most outrageous articles aloud from the Daily Mail. The day after her blind date with the Doctor, River shows up on their doorstep with the paper tucked under her arm and a box of chocolate and raspberry tarts in hand.

 

When Amy opens the door, she smiles. “Oh good, you’re up. I wasn’t sure if we were still on for today.” At Amy’s frown, she explains, “You know, since Rory is sick.”

 

“Oh right.” Amy smiles but it’s only because River knows her so well that she can see the guilt in her eyes. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just a, erm, bug. All better now.” She takes the tarts from River and motions with her hand. “Come in, come in.”

 

Rory is already in the kitchen when she walks in, just beginning to pour out the tea. He smiles when he sees her, lifting a hand. “Hey, you’re just in time.”

 

River kisses his cheek. “How’re you feeling?”

 

His eyes flick over her shoulder at Amy. “Oh, better. It was just allergies.”

 

“Really? Amy said it was a bug.”

 

“Right! A bug.” Rory clears his throat. “First it was a bug and then it was… allergies.”

 

River can practically feel Amy rolling her eyes but she stifles a smirk and says, “Well, I’m glad you’ve recovered.”

 

Amy doesn’t ask about last night until they’re all sitting around the table with tea and a plate of chocolate and raspberry tarts, each perusing a section of the Daily Mail for something scandalous to read. River admires her restraint. “So… did you have a nice time with the Doctor last night?”

 

River hums vaguely, pretending to read an article about Prince Harry’s real, biological family.

 

Amy isn’t dissuaded, prodding with all the subtly of an elephant. “I texted him this morning but he hasn’t answered back yet.”

 

“Hmm.” River purses her lips. “I probably wore him out, poor thing.”

 

From over the top of her section of the paper, River gets the special privilege of watching Amy Pond’s jaw drop. Rory lays a quelling hand over hers, the tops of his ears turning red. “Wore him out meaning you… dragged him to another karaoke bar until two am, right?”

 

“Well, I certainly did my share of singing.”

 

Amy chokes. “You and – you and my –“

 

“Full sentences, Amy,” Rory reminds her.

 

“Oh my god, seriously?” She bounces in her seat, hands clasped together as she beams. “What happened? You’re always saying you can’t stand him but I thought – wait, how was he? No, wait! Start at the beginning.”

 

Biting delicately into her chocolate tart, River says primly, “A girl shouldn’t kiss and tell, Amy. Besides, you know how the Doctor can blush.”

 

Still grinning widely, Amy rests her chin in her palm and gazes happily at River as she chews. “My childhood best mate and my best friend from uni – together. This is perfect. Hang on, you are together, right? It wasn’t just a one night stand sort of thing?”

 

River sips her tea. “I left him this morning, Amy. We’re seeing each other for dinner. Take that however you like.”

 

Amy squeals. “Oh my god, it actually worked.”

 

“What worked?”

 

Her eyes widen. “Nothing! I just mean, all of my wishing and hoping you two would find someone. And look at you, you found each other.”

 

“Yes, quite the coincidence.” River goes back to her paper, smirking.

 

As Amy goes on about double dates and Saturday afternoons with River and the Doctor from now on, River senses Rory’s eyes on her. Slowly, she lifts her gaze from the paper to find him watching her curiously. With a winning smile, she offers him another tart.

 

-

 

“You told them we shagged?!”

 

It’s the first thing the Doctor says when River answers his phone call later that night. Sighing, she drops her lecture notes onto the coffee table and kicks up her feet. “Yes, and?”

 

“We barely know each other!”

 

His voice squeaks and River smirks at the ceiling. “Why Doctor, I didn’t realize you were so old fashioned.”

 

He grumbles under his breath. “I’m a gentleman, I’ll have you know.”

 

“Sorry, honey,” she coos. “I guess I just couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

 

She can practically hear him blushing. “ _River_.”

 

“I’m sorry, but we have to be convincing. In case you’ve forgotten the plan, we’re pretending to be utterly mad for each other for the next few weeks and then have a spectacular breakup right in front of them.” River shifts the phone to her other ear, listening to the Doctor sigh. “Amy will be so sorry she tried to meddle in our lives and caused us such pain that she’ll never try it again. She knows what I’m like with men. Telling her we talked and held hands all night wasn’t going to cut it.”

 

After a moment of silence, the Doctor groans and she can hear what sounds like him thumping his head against something painfully solid. “Why did I agree to this again?”

 

“My impressive powers of persuasion?”

 

“You put something in my root beer, didn’t you?”

 

“You’ll never be able to prove it.”

 

He huffs out a sigh and she can almost see him clenching one of those slender hands in his hair, frowning into his phone. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit scary?”

 

She smiles at her empty living room. “Thank you.”

 

He chuckles. “So what did we do today?”

 

“What?”

 

“You told Amy we had a date tonight – she mentioned it on the phone earlier and I’m guessing she’ll want details tomorrow. We should probably have our story straight.”

 

“Right, of course.” River bites her lip, thinking. “We went to that seafood place by the harbor. I had the lobster and since you’re apparently such a gentleman, I’m sure you paid but don’t worry, dear, I thanked you very thoroughly back at your flat.”

 

He chokes.

 

River smirks. “How’s that sound?”

 

“Perfect,” he wheezes. “Except I’m banned from that restaurant.”

 

“You’re -” She sighs. “How can you be banned from a restaurant in a town you’re never in?”

 

His laughter is almost proud.

 

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, what about that new club? Davros, was it?”

 

“Davros? I’m supposed to be mad about you, remember? I wouldn’t even take my worst enemy there!”

 

“It’s not a real date, Doctor.”

 

“I don’t care,” he grouses. “I’m not even _pretending_ to take you to that hole in the wall.”

 

She sighs, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Well where do you suggest, then?”

 

He hums, mulling it over long enough to make her contemplate hanging up on him. “Do you like jazz?”

 

The question surprises her but pleasantly so, and she smiles. “Possibly.”

 

“Ah, is that actual interest in our fake date I hear, Song?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I took you dancing.”

 

“You stepped on my toes.”

 

“I bought you flowers.”

 

“How thoughtful. What kind?”

 

“Your favorite, of course.”

 

“Foxglove.”

 

“Poisonous. Honestly, River, you’re getting so predictable.”

 

She rolls her eyes, biting her lip against a smile. “Thank you for a lovely, nonexistent evening, Doctor.”

 

“It was nothing, Professor.”


	2. make out and pretend it's all there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What sort of man outside of the 1920s wears a bowtie to the cinema? Maybe Amy was on to something about the whole blind date thing. Maybe she just needs to get laid. As soon as this whole business with the Doctor is over, she’ll work on that.

While Amy has always been very public about her displays of affection with her husband, Rory has always erred on the side of reserved around River. Apparently, that was only out of respect for her singleness. With the Doctor sitting next to her now, Rory’s sympathy has all but evaporated. She isn’t quite sure where to look – at the snogging couple on her left or the man she’s supposed to be dating on her right.

 

She settles for staring straight ahead, sightlessly watching the previews until the Doctor shoves a bucket of popcorn under her nose. “Have some,” he insists around a mouthful. River sighs and settles the bucket on her lap. The Doctor hogs her armrest, leaning in so close she can smell the musty tweed of his coat. “Feels a bit like watching your parents snog, doesn’t it?”

 

She chokes on a laugh, glancing at him to find him watching her, eyes dancing with merriment and a smear of popcorn butter at the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, she lifts a hand and wipes it away with a swipe of her thumb. The Doctor doesn’t move, watching her with wide eyes.

 

Mortified, River goes back to staring at the screen, shoving his elbow off her armrest with a muttered, “A bit yeah.”

 

One day of pretending to date and she’s wiping his mouth for him. It isn’t like he’s so attractive she can’t keep her hands to herself – he’s wearing a bowtie for God’s sake. What sort of man outside of the 1920s wears a bowtie to the cinema? Maybe Amy was on to something about the whole blind date thing. Maybe she just needs to get laid. As soon as this whole business with the Doctor is over, she’ll work on that.

 

It takes about forty-five minutes into the movie for her to offer the Doctor more popcorn while looking him in the eye. The theatre is dark but she could swear the man is still blushing. He takes another handful from the bucket in her lap and elbows his way onto her armrest again, grinning at her when she glares.

 

“Sharing is caring, Song,” he whispers.

 

She glances over her shoulder. Amy and Rory still haven’t come up for air. “Clearly.”

 

He snorts and doesn’t even move away when River jabs him with an elbow, bullying him into giving her the armrest again. Instead, he lounges against her seat for the duration of the movie, making derogatory comments about the CGI while River scoffs at the Hollywood version of archaeologists presented onscreen. The Doctor agrees that archaeology is indeed much less impressive than they make it look. River throws popcorn at him until he apologizes.

 

They leave the cinema and walk together to the pub down the street, Amy bouncing ahead and dragging Rory along. The Doctor takes River’s hand and laces their fingers together. Before she can give in to the urge to snatch her hand away and slap him with it, he asks, “You want to be convincing, don’t you?”

 

Amy glances back at them, her eyes sharp and assessing as she takes in the sight of their joined hands. Grumbling, River leans her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and waves at her. The Doctor’s soft huff of laughter rustles her hair and she elbows him. “Shut up.”

 

The pub is crowded but they manage to find a booth near the back, Amy and Rory squeezing in on one side and leaving the other for River and the Doctor. The Doctor lets her slide in first, dropping his jacket onto the empty space next to her. “Drink, cupcake?”

 

Too busy staring at the braces that had been hiding beneath his jacket – honestly, is the man 30 or 300? – it takes River a moment longer than it should to register the pet name. Her eyes snap up to meet his and he smirks. She can almost hear the question lurking in the curl of his lips. _You want to be convincing, don’t you?_

 

Oh, she’ll give him convincing.

 

She smiles, with entirely too much teeth. “A martini. Thank you, sweetie.”

 

He walks away with a wink but River glimpses the reddened tips of his ears beneath his hair as he goes and counts it as a victory. Amy squeaks, bouncing a little in her seat as she beams across the table at River. “Pet names already? Someone’s smitten.”

 

“Amy.” Rory elbows her gently, looking uncomfortable.

 

“What? They’re cute!”

 

“Precious,” Rory mutters. “Wine?”

 

“Please.” Amy kisses his cheek, shooing him out of their booth. The minute he’s out of earshot, she turns on River with all the intensity of a criminal investigator conducting an interview. “So… how are things going?”

 

River shrugs coolly, glad the Doctor isn’t around to squirm and fidget, giving them away. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early to say?”

 

“With the way you two have been looking at each other all night?”

 

“All night?” River raises an eyebrow, laughing. “You barely stopped sucking Rory’s face long enough to walk here – how have you seen anything?”

 

Amy glowers, pointing a finger at her. “I’ve seen enough.”

 

“It’s going fine, Amy.” She glances toward the bar and sees the Doctor struggling toward them, drinks in hand. “Now hush, he’ll hear you.”

 

“Aw, don’t want to scare him away?”

 

“Amy -”

 

“You like him.” She beams. “I know you. You really, really -”

 

“Martini for my Pudding Cup?”

 

The smug bastard actually has the nerve to smile at her. She is going to strangle him with his own bowtie. She might not even get prison time for it. The fashion community might just thank her. They’ll erect a statue in her honor. River forces a smile and takes her drink from the Doctor. “Later, honey.”

 

She slides out of the booth and stands, slipping an arm around his narrow waist. The widening of his eyes is almost enough to make her blow their cover. She smothers the urge to laugh, smiling up at him instead. Amy has her eyes fastened on them, watching intently.

 

“Dance with me?”

 

She pulls him out onto the dance floor before he can answer her, escaping just as Rory returns with his lager and Amy’s wine. The Doctor stumbles behind her, hissing his protests. “River, I’m not really much of a dancer and I don’t think -”

 

River stops in the middle of the crowd – safe from prying Pond eyes – and whirls to face him with a glare. “Call me Pudding Cup again and I will make sure pudding is all you’re ever able to eat. Are we clear?” She smiles, spotting Amy still peering at them through a gap in the crowd, and reaches up a hand to stroke his cheek. “Sweetie?”

 

“Got it.” He offers her a weak grin. “Sorry. Got a bit carried away.”

 

Damn him and those wide, guileless eyes. River sighs. “Forgiven.” She reaches for his arms, yanking him into her and maneuvering him into a satisfactory position, his hands on her hips. He doesn’t protest, letting her direct his limbs like a rag doll, never dropping that goofy smile. Finally satisfied, River nods once and rests her head on his lean chest. “Now just act besotted.”

 

“I think I can manage that.” She doesn’t even have time to come up with a disparaging remark before he settles his hands more comfortably on her hips, long fingers curling against the silky fabric of her dress, He draws her closer, humming into her hair, and suddenly she understands what Amy and Rory had been talking of the other night at Jim Fish’s. He certainly isn’t her type, all long and lanky, tripping over his own limbs, but all of a sudden, wrapped up in his arms with his mouth brushing her ear, it’s easier to see the appeal of a man like the Doctor.

 

She lifts her head from his chest. “Where did you -”

 

“Shh.” Dark hazel eyes bore into hers with startlingly intensity. He doesn’t even crack a smile, lifting a hand to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, fingers lingering against her cheek just long enough to make her breath catch. “You’re supposed to look besotted, Song.”

 

Right. She smiles, soft and affectionate, nuzzling into his palm. “Have a lot of practice pretending to woo women?”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’re astonishingly good at it.”

 

“Oi, why is that surprising?” He frowns, those thin eyebrows knitting together. “I can be charming!”

 

“Sure, when you’re not spilling drinks or calling me some sort of dessert name or making fun of my career.” She lifts an eyebrow and he flushes, ducking his head. “Very charming.”

 

“Sorry.” He bites his lip, one hand leaving her hip to slide around her waist. His palm settles against the small of her back, pressing her closer. “I don’t really mean it, you know. You’re an expert in your field. You travel all over the world and you get to play in the dirt. It’s impressive!”

 

She narrows her eyes at him. “But?”

 

“It’s just so _boring_.”

 

River deliberately steps on his toes.

 

By the time they make it back to their booth, Rory has finished two lagers and Amy has finished her wine and moved on to tequila shots – besides a short break for the dance floor when Dancing Queen came on. When the Doctor and River approach their table, she’s waiting for them with her arms crossed and her chin lifted.

 

“Are you avoiding me?”

 

River frowns. “Why would we want to do that?”

 

“I don’t know but I’ve barely seen you all evening and -”

 

“We were dancing!”

 

“Don’t change the subject.” She points a finger at them and squints like she might be seeing double. “I watched you lot the entire time you were out there -”

 

The Doctor snorts. “Not creepy at all, Pond.”

 

“And I didn’t see one kiss! Not one all night!”

 

Without even looking, River can sense the Doctor’s blush. She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t realize there was a kissing quota. Are we competing? Because I think you and Rory won during the opening credits.”

 

Amy pouts. “I want a kiss.”

 

The Doctor fidgets. “Amelia -”

 

“Don’t you _Amelia_ me, Raggedy Man. My best friends are finallytogether. After years and years of -”

 

His eyes widen. “ _Amy_.”

 

“Wha -” She presses her fingers to her lips, grinning. “Oops.”

 

River glances between them, puzzled. “What are you -”

 

“Shh.” Amy glares at her. “No more talking. It’s time for kissing.” She smacks a pale, uncoordinated hand against the tabletop imperiously. “Go.”

 

Rory glances at them apologetically. “Sorry. I think it was that last tequila shot.”

 

“I think it was all of them,” the Doctor mumbles, scratching his neck.

 

Amy keeps smiling at them, making kissy noises behind her hand. “Come on, Doctor. Lay one on ‘er. She won’t bite!” She glances at River, furrowing her brow. “Well, she might. But you’ll probably enjoy it so -”

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” River turns and takes the Doctor’s shirt collar in hand, dragging him in. He stumbles over his feet, making a little squeaking noise of surprise that she instantly muffles by pressing her lips against his. She means for it to be a quick peck to shut Amy up but the moment the Doctor parts his lips against hers, she forgets all about quick.

 

His mouth is soft and warm, inviting her inside. She parts her lips with a sigh, reaching up a hand to cradle his jaw. The Doctor nudges his nose against hers, smiling a little as their tongues brush. He tastes like spearmint and root beer and it shouldn’t be as pleasant as it is but River presses closer anyway, feeling his hands drop to her hips, keeping her near. She’d expected more of his shy, bumbling little boy routine but he surprises her. He’s gentle but firm, sweetly insistent as he kisses her back.

 

They part to the sound of Amy clapping enthusiastically. River releases the Doctor’s shirt collar and steps back. His hands slip away from her hips and she avoids his gaze, clearing her throat. “There,” she says, and hates how out of breath she sounds as she looks at Amy. “Satisfied?”

 

Amy nods, watching them with a wobbly smile. “That was so pretty.”

 

River licks her lips, feeling inexplicably flushed as she glances at the Doctor. He’s red too, biting his lip and staring at the floor. He can’t even look at her, back to his shy boy act. That won’t do at all. They aren’t breaking up for at least a few weeks. River sneaks a hand behind his back and pinches his bum.

 

He yelps, outraged gaze instantly darting to hers as he leaps away. “River!”

 

She smirks.

 

“Right.” Rory reaches for Amy, helping her stumble to her feet. “Time to go.”

 

-

 

The clatter of a tray dropping onto the table makes her jump, the pen in her hand jerking with the movement and marking a long stripe of red across the paper she’s grading.

 

“Oops.” She looks up with a glare and finds the Doctor standing over her, biting his lip guiltily. “Sorry.”

 

She sighs, clicking the pen and putting it aside. “Wonderful.”

 

“Can you use white-out or something?”

 

“Not unless I want to cover up half of the page.” She slips her reading glasses from her nose and gestures irritably to the seat across from her. “Sit, Doctor. It’s fine.”

 

“I really am sorry,” he babbles, taking a seat. “I just came in to get lunch and I saw you sitting. I wanted to surprise you but not _that_ surprised and -”

 

“Doctor.”

 

“Right. Sorry.” He blushes, grinning. “I talked to Amy this morning.”

 

“Oh?” River pushes aside her papers and reaches for her salad, watching the Doctor inspect his fish fingers. “How is she?”

 

“Very hungover.” He laughs. “And a bit sorry.”

 

“Sorry? About what?”

 

To her delight, his cheeks only redden further. Honestly it used to be so annoying but she’s starting to like how easy it is to make him blush. “You know -” He waves a hand helplessly. “Making us…”

 

She raises an eyebrow when he trails off.

 

“You _know_.” When he starts making kissy faces, River dissolves into helpless laughter. He scowls. “Very funny, Song.”

 

“I can’t help it. You’re almost tolerable when you’re flustered.” She grins, resisting the urge to reach across the table and pinch his cheek.

 

“Almost?” He bristles. “I am loads of tolerable. I’m practically irresistible!”

 

“Agree to disagree, sweetie.” She spears a tomato with her fork and watches him finally bite into his fish finger. Obviously, it meets his standards. “So how was the cab ride last night? Did Amy make it home before she lost her dinner?”

 

“Only just.” He shakes his head, grimacing. “I helped Rory put her to bed.”

 

Swallowing another bout of laughter at his expense, River only says, “I’m sure he appreciated the help,” and takes a bite of her salad.

 

“Actually, he wanted to chat after.”

 

She takes one look at his chagrined expression and sits up straighter, intrigued. “Oh?”

 

“He gave me The Talk.”

 

River nearly chokes on her salad, quickly reaching for her iced tea. “ _No_.”

 

“Yes.” He grins widely, eyes sparkling beneath the floppy hair hanging over his forehead. “Roranicus Pond threatening me with bodily harm. It was brilliant.”

 

“Threatening you?”

 

“I don’t know if you noticed, Song, but he’s pretty protective of you.” The Doctor waggles his brows at her. “Said if we broke up and it was my fault, I wouldn’t just be called the Doctor, I would need one.”

 

River covers her mouth with her hand, eyes watering from choking back laughter. The thought of meek, mild Rory threatening the Doctor – who undoubtedly stood there nervous and stammering the whole time – was just too delicious. “How utterly barbaric.” She wipes at her eyes, still grinning. “I’m touched. And a little offended.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I set him to rights.” The Doctor munches on another fish finger absently, inspecting his custard. “I mean, hypothetically, if we were actually dating, you’re more than capable of hurting me all by yourself.”

 

“Well, look at you. You’re all bandy legs.” She studies him from across the table. “Absolutely no muscle to speak of.”

 

“Oi!”

 

“I’m quite certain Amy at her drunkest could hurt you.”

 

The Doctor pouts into his custard. River reminds herself firmly that he is the most irritating man she has ever met and the fact that he is cute when he sulks or that his bum is actual perfection do not matter in the slightest. He drinks root beers in pubs and calls himself the Doctor. She barely tolerates him. Obviously.

 

“So, where are you taking me?”

 

He glances up from his current, bizarre experimentation – dipping his fish finger in his custard – to frown at her. “Sorry, what?”

 

“People who date generally go out together.”

 

He perks up at that, smiling.

 

“So where are we telling Amy we went this week?”

 

“Ah.” He deflates a little, going back to playing with his food. Christ, the man teaching quantum physics to incoming freshman is actually five years old. “Where would you like to go, dear?”

 

“Paris.”

 

He snorts.

 

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

 

“Perhaps for our anniversary.” He glances up then, peeking at her through his fringe. A sudden image of that same face looking at her like that at another table, at a little café in Paris, flashes through her mind – teasing him over coffee, their fingers laced together under the table. The picture in her head is so vivid it steals her breath. She can’t find a thing to say, trapped in his gaze speechless and staring. “River?”

 

She finally breaks eye contact, forcing her gaze back to her salad. Daydreaming about the Doctor, of all people. She really does need to get laid. Her cheeks feel hot and she shakes her head, clearing her throat. “French food then?”

 

“Sure, brilliant.”

 

“You spilled the wine down my dress.”

 

“Of course I did.”

 

“I didn’t sleep over because we had classes the next day.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“But we met for breakfast in the morning. I had a bagel and I’m sure you got something obnoxiously sugary.”

 

“Oi!”

 

Gathering her courage, she looks up again and smiles at his outraged face. “Sound good?”

 

He huffs. “Fine.”

 

Satisfied, she goes back to picking at her lunch and they sit in amicable silence for a few minutes, glancing out the cafeteria windows to watch students pass by. As she takes her last bite of salad, River asks, “How are classes going? Ready to run off to Indonesia yet?”

 

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugs, glancing from the window to look at her. “Sitting still, I mean.”

 

She scoffs, gathering up her papers, all yet to be graded thanks to him crashing her lunch. “By midterm week, you’ll change your mind.”

 

Watching her with a smile, the Doctor only says, “We’ll see.”


	3. until then, you will do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor bites his lip and stares resolutely at his hands. “I mean, since we’re going to all the trouble of pretending to go out… we could just do it.” He scratches his cheek. “Go out, I mean. If you want.”

“He took you to Chez Lux?”

 

Smiling at the disbelief in Amy’s voice, River hums into the phone. “I’ve no idea how he managed to get a reservation on such short notice. Ridiculous man must know someone on the staff.” She manages to infuse her words with just enough warm affection to make Amy sigh happily. “But it was lovely. We have such fun together.”

 

“I knew you would. _Knew_ it.”

 

Amy sounds smug and River rolls her eyes, nodding to the secretary behind the desk as she walks past. “No one likes a clever clogs, dear.” She nudges open the door to her office and stops in her tracks. Wearing a big smile and sitting at the chair in front of her desk, feet propped up on a stack of essays, is the Doctor. “Speaking of clever clogs, I’m going to have to call you back. My sweetie is here.”

 

Amy practically coos into the phone. “Visiting you at work! That is so -”

 

River hangs up on her, shutting the door to her office with a glare.

 

The Doctor’s grin widens. “Hi, honey.”

 

“Who let you in?” She drops her bag onto her desk, right on top of his feet.

 

He scowls but gets the hint, dropping them back to the floor. “The secretary. I explained our situation and told her I wanted to surprise you. She was very accommodating. Said something about how nice it is you finally have someone.”

 

River freezes in the middle of arranging the papers on her desk, hand curled around a heavy archaeology text as she contemplates throwing it directly at his head. Dear God, he told the secretary they’re involved. By lunchtime, the entire faculty will know. By tomorrow morning, all of her students will be asking her about her relationship with the hot new professor while she tries to lecture them on the Historical Preservation Act of 1966. Wonderful.

 

“Gotcha.”

 

She glances up from her panicked, white-knuckled daze to find the idiot lounging insolently in his chair, smirking at her.

 

“I picked the lock when no one was looking.”

 

Growling, River loosens her grip on her textbook and drops it back on the desk. “Bastard.”

 

“Oi, my parentage is a complete mystery. I could be one hundred and ten percent legitimate for all you know.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and studies the nameplate on her desk. “So what are the plans for this weekend? I was thinking I could pretend to take you to this petting zoo -”

 

River sinks into the chair behind her desk and swats his hand away when he tries to pick up the nameplate. “Petting zoo?”

 

At the derision in her voice, he frowns. “Petting zoos are cool.”

 

“No.”

 

“But -”

 

“No.”

 

He sighs gustily and when she isn’t looking, snatches up her nameplate just to be difficult. He ignores her frown and tosses it between his hands, throwing it up in the air and attempting to catch it. In turn, she does her best to pretend he isn’t in the room at all, going over the notes for her afternoon lecture with a pen in hand, reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

 

They go on like this for several minutes, the Doctor unwilling to leave and River refusing to ask him to. Asking him to leave would mean admitting defeat and she isn’t about to let him win. So she reads her notes, scribbles in the margins and valiantly ignores the Doctor juggling her nameplate across from her – right up until the moment he drops it. It hits the floor with a _clatter_ and she looks up as he curses, scrambling to fish it out from under his chair.

 

Hastily placing it back on her desk, he scoots it a little too far and ends up knocking over her mug full of pens. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, moving to clean up after himself. “My fault. I’ll just -”

 

River scowls, smacking his hands away from her things with a whack of her notes. “You’ll just sit there and stop touching things.”

 

He sinks back into his seat with a blush, hands folded in his lap. “Sorry.”

 

She sighs, slipping her glasses off and scrubbing a hand over her face. She can feel a headache forming behind her eyes – the kind she usually gets after spending too much time with the man in front of her. “Fine, we’ll pretend to go to the petting zoo, happy? Now please get out of my -”

 

“I was thinking,” he interrupts in a rush.

 

River raises an eyebrow but pauses, letting him speak.

 

The Doctor bites his lip and stares resolutely at his hands. “I mean, since we’re going to all the trouble of pretending to go out… we could just do it.” He scratches his cheek. “Go out, I mean. If you want.”

 

Watching in silence as he fiddles with the gold watch on his wrist – no doubt an antique he bought at a market in Myanmar or somewhere equally obscure – River worries her lip between her teeth and debates with herself. They could go out, she supposes. It isn’t as though she has other plans and the Doctor isn’t terrible company. Most of the time. Some of the time. Occasionally. He has his moments.

 

He chooses now to lift his head, eyeing her hopefully through his fringe.

 

She groans inwardly. “Fine. Why not?”

 

Looking her in the eye now, the Doctor beams.

 

-

 

The rest of the week passes quickly in a blur of classes and more shared lunches with the Doctor. By the time Friday arrives, River is almost looking forward to their little outing together. They agree to meet at a tearoom down the street from her flat but when she leaves that evening, locking the door behind her and turning around, the Doctor is parked outside, leaning against his motorcycle.

 

“Hello,” he calls, bouncing a bit on his toes as she walks down the steps toward him. “You look nice.”

 

She glances down at her jodhpurs, boots, and sweater with a shrug. “Thanks.” As she reaches him, she really looks – same old Doctor right down to the bowtie, but over the usual tweed and braces combo is a soft brown leather jacket. The Doctor in leather. She blinks at him. She likes it. A lot. He’s still an idiot, mind. Just a good-looking one. “I thought we were meeting down the street.”

 

“Yeah but that seemed a bit silly. I mean, I’m already here.” He tugs at the collar of his jacket and whirls to his bike, picking up something from the seat. As he turns back to her, she realizes it’s a helmet and laughs. “What? You have to wear it!”

 

She shakes her head. “Sweetie, this hair will not fit in that.”

 

“River, it’s the _law_.”

 

“I’m not wearing it.”

 

“Fine. I’ll wear it.” He sticks the helmet on his head, smashing his fringe over his eyes. He looks completely ridiculous but River decides to keep that to herself – there will be plenty of time to mock him later. “You might have a point anyway. If you fall off, your hair is probably cushioning enough.”

 

She glares, watching him hop on the bike, throwing one gangly leg on each side. “You’re lucky I’m even getting on this thing with you.”

 

“Thing?” He looks affronted, gaping at her from behind the visor of his helmet. “Sexy is not a thing -”

 

“Sexy? Seriously?”

 

“Well, she _is_ sexy!”

 

River sighs, climbing onto the back of the bike. “Are you sure you know how to drive _Sexy_?”

 

“I’ll have you know I’m a brilliant driver! Almost won a race once. Well, a boat race. Paper boats. In a fountain.” As the engine roars to life, he shouts over the noise, “Now hold on tight, Song!”

 

Already regretting her decision to climb on in the first place, River wraps her arms around his middle and ducks her head, burying her face in his back. He smells like leather and mint tea. For some reason, it makes her smile. They ease out into traffic carefully but once the road is open in front of them, the Doctor speeds off down the street with a shout of _Geronimo!_

 

As much as she hates to admit it after her reluctance to get on, racing through streets and back alleys on the back of Doctor’s bike is _exhilarating_ … and god help her, just a tiny bit sexy. Not that she’ll ever admit it out loud. The man is unbearably smug as it is. Honestly, the only thing that could make the drive better is being the one in front. Next time, she decides, the Doctor is going to have to share.

 

As she climbs off when they finally stop, she start to doubt there will be a next time. “You were actually serious.”

 

Tossing his helmet aside, the Doctor slings an arm around her shoulders and grins at their surroundings. “I told you, dear. Petting zoos are cool.” 

 

The troubling part is he really seems to believe it.

 

He takes her by the hand and River spends the next hour being dragged from one end of the zoo to the other – llamas and ducklings and whatever else catches the Doctor’s fancy. He leads her along like an excited little boy, grinning and pointing out the animals, tugging her with him to pet their noses and the tops of their heads. Content enough to follow him once they stop for candy floss and popcorn, River munches on her snacks and feels embarrassingly indulgent, watching the Doctor wave his hands about and listening to him natter on with little known facts about each animal. The sugar rush is making her almost tolerant, or at least making the Doctor more tolerable.

 

As they leave the baby chicks behind, the Doctor stops in his tracks, eyes wide. River nearly bumps into him, grumbling as she peeks around his shoulder. With a mouth full of pink candy floss, the Doctor points wordlessly to ahead of them – the face painting booth. River groans. “Seriously?”

 

He glances over his shoulder at her with bright eyes, swallowing candy floss. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Face paint is -”

 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She eyes the booth for a long moment. “One condition. I get to paint your face.”

 

“Why?” He peers at her suspiciously. “You’re not going to draw something naughty, are you?”

 

“Naughty? Me?”

 

His frown deepens.

 

She sighs. “Relax, honey. I promise not to draw a penis on your cheek.”

 

He squeaks, clapping his hand over her mouth. “River,” he hisses, glancing around furtively, his cheeks flushed bright red. “There are children!”

 

Smiling beneath his palm, she almost regrets her promise. Watching him panic about a dirty drawing on his face would have been delicious. With a mournful sigh, she takes his hand from her mouth and keeps a tight grip on his fingers as she leads him toward the booth. He trips over his own feet, stumbling after her.

 

“Hang on, are we even allowed to paint our own faces? I thought the nice booth lady was supposed to do that for us?”

 

She hums in reply, letting go of his hand only when they reach the booth. Nice Booth Lady is a bit preoccupied with the line of unruly children waiting for their turn, painting sunflowers and superheroes and Disney princesses. She doesn’t even notice River swiping an extra paint set and two brushes.

 

The Doctor scurries after her as she walks calmly away. “River, you just stole from the nice booth lady!”

 

“Borrowed,” she insists, elbowing him when he catches up with her. “And hush about it, will you? Unless you want the entire petting zoo to know.”

 

He looks at her with his mouth agape, his eyes wide and just a bit admiring. “You’re mad.”

 

“Says the clumsiest man on earth who gets about by motorcycle. How many accidents have you had, anyway?”

 

“None,” he protests hotly. He wavers when she looks at him. “Just a few.”

 

River narrows her eyes at him.

 

“More than a few.” He tugs at his fringe. “It’s a very complicated bike, alright? I built her from scratch!”

 

“That explains quite a lot.” Far enough away from the face painting booth now, River settles herself and her newly acquired supplies onto a bench beneath a shade tree. The Doctor joins her with a sigh, collapsing inelegantly onto the bench beside her. “What color do you want? You can’t have red – it’s mine.”

 

“Blue,” he says instantly. He stops, tilting his head and squinting at her. “And gold.”

 

“There isn’t a gold.”

 

He huffs. “Yellow then. Pedestrian yellow.”

 

She rolls her eyes and hands him a paintbrush. With a task to complete, the Doctor falls blessedly silent, far too intent on painting to bother with words. It’s actually a bit fascinating to watch, those hazel eyes fastened on her cheek, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrates. Every now and then, his wrist brushes her jaw as he paints and every single time, she feels her breath catch. His hair keeps slipping into his eyes but he gives up huffing it away. His sole focus is River at the moment and she doesn’t know why but the knowledge makes her tingle.

 

“What are you drawing?”

 

“Shh.”

 

“Doctor -”

 

“It’s a secret, Song,” he says, and his voice is so quiet and hushed that she dare not question him again. Instead, she starts focusing on her own painting. It doesn’t take her long, carefully sketching out a pair of lips on his cheek, next to his ear, and another near the corner of his mouth. She fills them in with red paint and grins to herself. He looks like Roger Rabbit after an enthusiastic greeting from Jessica.

 

“I don’t like that smile. It scares me.”

 

“Hush, I’m almost done.” She fills in the last pair of lips with bright red paint and sets aside her brush, leaning back to admire her work. “There. Beautiful.”

 

He scrambles into his trouser pocket for his mobile, peering at his reflection in the camera function with a guffaw. “Wishful thinking, Song?”

 

She winks. “You know how irresistible I find you, honey.” Taking advantage of his awkward stuttering, River nicks the phone from him and inspects his handiwork. The artwork on her cheek is surprisingly well done, a soft sketch of two little birds – one a dark blue and the other a soft yellow.

 

“Swallows.” He fidgets with his bowtie, tugging at it as stares at his shoes.

 

“They’re pretty,” she admits, still studying them. “But why swallows? Why two?”

 

His smile turns enigmatic as he bops her on the nose with the tip of his finger.

 

She frowns. “Am I supposed to guess?”

 

“You can if you like.”

 

“Well, you were so worried about penises. And now there are these swallows on my cheek…” She gives him a sly smile. “Are you trying to proposition me, Doctor?”

 

His arms flail a bit as he shakes his head, face flushed, and she laughs. “Honestly,” he huffs. “Must you make everything so filthy?”

 

“Only when you ask for it.” She pats his cheek. “Now let’s take a picture and send it to Amy. You want to be convincing, don’t you?”

 

He scoots closer, still bright red, and huddles against her side, his warm cheek pressed to hers. He beams into the camera and she turns her head at the last minute, puckering her lips against his jaw to make sure the picture captures the two swallows on her cheek. The Doctor falls into a coughing fit the moment she snaps the picture, tugging at his bowtie again.

 

River ignores him, sending the picture to Amy. As she hands the phone back to the Doctor, Nice Booth Lady emerges from the crowd, undoubtedly scanning the area for her missing supplies. “Oi, you two!”

 

River leaps to her feet and the Doctor grabs her hand. Without even a conspiring glance, they start running, leaving the paint set and brushes on the bench.

 

“Thanks for the loan,” the Doctor calls over his shoulder. “Sorry about the theft!”

 

River laughs.

 

The Doctor does too, so distracted he trips again and careens into the camel pen gate. The force of the collision knocks the breath from his lungs and he wheezes, which only makes River laugh harder. One of the camels bellows in his face. Another begins chewing on his hair. She can barely breathe as she takes his hand again, running through the crowd, around animal pens and booths and food carts. Behind them, she can hear people yelling and what sounds like running but she doesn’t dare look back until they finally reach the Doctor’s bike.

 

Breathing hard, they turn to make sure they aren’t being followed and what they find in their wake is utter chaos. Families and booth owners scrambling to get out of the way of the stampeding herd of camels. The camel owners chase after them, screaming as they do their best to herd and capture them all before they reach the street.

 

River stares. “Oh you idiot. You must have accidentally unlocked the gate when you fell into it!”

 

“Oops. Thought I heard something unlatch.” The Doctor winces. “Should we…” He jerks a thumb back at the zoo, in shambles now thanks to him. “Help?”

 

“I think you’ve helped enough, sweetie.”

 

He flushes, glaring at her.

 

When they hop on his bike and speed away, River is still laughing.

 

-

 

“Any time, Rory.”

 

“I’m thinking!”

 

“Think faster!”

 

Watching Amy and Rory from her place on the sofa next to the Doctor, River sighs and takes a long sip of her wine. Playing charades with the Ponds always verges on cutthroat. She usually cites some previous engagement and manages to get out of their game nights but the more Amy sees her with the Doctor, the better the outcome when they finally split.

 

So far, it’s been sort of fun. The Doctor is a surprisingly excellent charades partner – within seconds, River always knows what he’s miming. Together, they’re formidable opponents for Amy and Rory, who have yet to score above five points.

 

As Rory acts out a song title and Amy shouts out random answers, River cuddles into the Doctor’s side – for show, of course – and lets him wrap an arm around her shoulders. “So are you ever going to tell me your real name? That’s probably something a girl should know about her sweetie.”

 

He shrugs and turns his head, his nose brushing her temple. “All you have to do is ask.”

 

“Really?”

 

He snorts. “It’s not exactly a secret, River.”

 

“Well what is it then?”

 

“John Smith.”

 

“Fine, don’t tell me.”

 

“I’m serious!”

 

“Really?”

 

He nods.

 

“How… anti-climactic.”

 

He laughs. “What were you expecting?”

 

“I don’t know. Something ridiculous or embarrassing. Maybe both.”

 

“Like Oliver Twist?”

 

“Or Eugene Fitzherbert.”

 

He giggles, leaning in and pressing his lips softly against hers. Amy and Rory must be watching. Playing along, River leans into him with a smile that only widens when she feels his lips curl against her own. She cards her fingers through his hair and scratches the back of his neck with her nails, pulling away with a laugh when he shudders.

 

“Should I call you John?”

 

“If you want.” He nuzzles his nose against hers and looks at her with such fondness that for a moment, River forgets they’re only pretending. “I’m rather partial to _sweetie_ , to be honest.”

 

“Oi, lovebirds!”

 

Feeling flushed, River pulls away from him and turns to their friends. She clears her throat and avoids looking at John, tucking her hair behind her ears. “What?”

 

Arms crossed over her chest, Amy smirks. “It’s your turn.”

 

“Right.” She leans forward and picks up the bowl sitting on the table, holding it out to the Doctor. “Pick one, sweetie.”

 

He fishes around in the bowl, dramatically emerging with a slip of paper between his fingers. Reading his clue, he grins and climbs to his feet, stumbling on the leg of the coffee table as he makes his way to the center of the room. River watches him go with a sigh.

 

Amy unfolds her long limbs from her armchair and sidles up to the sofa, curling up next to River. “So,” she prompts when River refuses to look at her. “Things are still good?”

 

“Things are very good.”

 

“Ooh, _very_ good, hmm?”

 

“I’m certainly not complaining.”

 

Amy nudges her, grinning. “And he actually got you to step foot in a petting zoo. And get face paint! That’s kind of a big deal Ms. It’s Not A Good Time Unless We Go To Jail.”

 

“Well -”

 

“ _Ahem_.”

 

They both look up to find John standing with his hands on his hips, tapping one foot impatiently. “If you’re through gossiping about me, I’m about to be absolutely brilliant.”

 

Amy rolls her eyes. “Go on then.”

 

He holds up four fingers.

 

“Four words,” River says.

 

He makes another signal.

 

“Book.”

 

He puts a finger over his top lip, like a mustache, and swaggers a little. Before River can hope to guess, he drops the act and rushes to the window. She watches along with the Ponds in amused silence as he wraps the drapes around himself like a dress, batting his eyelashes coquettishly.

 

River yawns. “Gone With The Wind.”

 

“Yes!” John nearly falls on his face in an effort to stagger forward and high-five her.

 

“Seriously?” Rory bursts out. “You have got to be cheating. I don’t know how you’re cheating, but you are.”

 

John gapes at him. “Oi, can we help it we’re so in sync? Don’t be rude, Roranicus.”

 

“I am not giving you points for that.”

 

“What? _That’s_ cheating!”

 

As the two bicker over the notepad where they’ve been keeping score, Amy turns back to River. “OK, so he’s an idiot but my point still stands. He’s good for you.”

 

River bristles. “I was hardly some delinquent with no love life before he came along.”

 

“Delinquent, no.” Amy sips her wine. “No love life? Yes.”

 

“I’ve gone out with plenty of men -”

 

“Going home with blokes down the pub you didn’t even know was not a love life.” When River glares, Amy holds up her hands. “I’m just saying, it’s sweet that you’re actually giving him a chance. I used to worry about you, you know? I mean, obviously you can take care of yourself. I just didn’t want you to have to.”

 

For the first time since this whole thing began, River feels a little guilty for her deception. She looks away from her best friend, watching John finally wrestle the notepad from Rory and triumphantly scribble down their points. “And now?”

 

Watching her watch the Doctor, Amy smiles. “I don’t worry any more.”

 

-

 

When her ringing mobile wakes her at three in the morning, she’s certain of two things. One is that the sky must be falling. The second is that if the call is for anything less, she will find whoever is on the other end and make them pay. Fumbling for her mobile on her nightstand, River answers it with her eyes still closed, burying her face back in her pillow. “Hmph?”

 

At her muffled greeting, the person on the other end of the line giggles.

 

There is only one idiot who would call her in the wee hours of the morning and _giggle_. She lifts her head from her pillow and growls, “Doctor.”

 

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

 

River grits her teeth. “Yes.”

 

“Right, sorry. This was a stupid idea. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Wait.” River sighs, forcing herself to sit up, pushing back her blankets. Shoving her curls out of her eyes, she scrubs a hand over her face and shifts her phone to her other ear. “What is it?”

 

“Nothing. Forget I called -”

 

“I can’t forget, you idiot. You’ve already woken me so out with it.”

 

“Really, River, it’s nothing -”

 

“John.”

 

“Do you want to go get some ice cream with me?”

 

River tips her head back in exasperation, pulling the phone away from her ear to stare sightlessly up at the ceiling. He’s her punishment, isn’t he? She has been lying through her teeth to Amy and this man is her karmic retribution. Slowly lifting her mobile back to her ear, she forces herself to breathe deeply through her nose. “Doctor, you do realize it’s gone three in the morning, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She can practically hear his blush. “But I couldn’t sleep and I thought, I dunno -”

 

“That you’d wake me up so I couldn’t sleep either?”

 

“I just wanted some company.” He huffs. “Told you it was a silly idea. I’ll hang up now.”

 

“Don’t you dare.” Rubbing at her eyes, River swings her legs over the side of her bed. “I’m awake now and I want ice cream.”

 

He chuckles into the phone, sounding relieved, and she feels a corresponding smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. “Alright then. As her ladyship commands.”

 

Leaving the warm nest of her bed, River fumbles around in the dark for a pair of jeans, tucking her phone between her neck and shoulder as she hops into them. “How soon can you be here?”

 

“Erm, I’m actually outside right now.”

 

She pauses in the middle of tugging on her boots. “Well, aren’t you a confident boy.”

 

He squeaks. “I wasn’t -”

 

“Give me five minutes.” She hangs up on him before he can reply, dashing around her room to finish dressing. She tugs on her other boot, pulls on a sweater and ties her hair back. Before she leaves, she snatches up a lipstick from her dresser and hastily applies it in the mirror. A girl can’t just meet a man in the middle of the night without lipstick, after all.

 

When she steps outside, the Doctor is waiting for her in the street, leaning against his bike in that leather jacket again. He looks like he just tumbled out of bed, his eyes sleepy and his hair mussed. He isn’t even wearing his bowtie, his shirt collar open and loose, exposing his collarbones. He grins at her and River feels her stomach give a little flip.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“What’s good about it?”

 

“Not a morning person, Song?” He throws a leg over his bike and waggles his brows at her. “A little ice cream will fix that.”

 

There aren’t any ice cream parlors open at three in the morning so they settle for a Tesco run, buying a carton of Rocky Road and two ice cream scoops. They take their breakfast to a nearby playground, settling onto the swings. River holds the carton while they both scoop out spoonfuls and eat it, laughing and shivering in the early morning air.

 

When they’ve had their fill, they put aside the ice cream and start swinging. It quickly turns into a competition, the Doctor insisting he can swing higher and faster than she can until they’re both pumping their legs and nearly touching the tree branches overhead. Once she’s going high enough, River closes her eyes, lets go and jumps, laughing midair as the Doctor squeaks in alarm.

 

She lands crouched on her feet, smiling as she rises and turns, offering the Doctor a smug look. Not to be outdone, he follows suit. His attempt isn’t nearly as graceful – his arms flail, his scream is quite nearly girlish in volume and he stumbles when he lands, hitting his knees in the dirt. He groans, falling over to land on his side.

 

“Well, that was sexy.”

 

He peers at River, standing over him with her hands on her hips, and pouts. “I wasn’t ready.”

 

“No one was, sweetie.”

 

She helps him to his feet and he stumbles back to his swing, limping a little as he goes. Rolling her eyes, River joins him. “I was never very good at that. Broke my arm the last time I did it.”

 

She gapes at him. “Then why did you do it again, you idiot?”

 

Lifting his chin to gaze down his nose at her, he says loftily, “I couldn’t let you win, could I?”

 

“But I did win.”

 

“Did not.”

 

“That was an abysmal landing.”

 

“Ah, but I did land.” He looks so smug and proud of himself River can’t argue. “What about you, Professor? That was a practiced leap. Make a habit of jumping from swings?”

 

She pushes the toe of her boot against the ground to make her swing sway gently. “I had a foster family once that always took me to the park. The swings were my favorite.” For years, the memory was a painful one but now it only makes her smile. “I would jump and my foster father always caught me.”

 

Suddenly very still next to her, the Doctor asks, “I didn’t realize you were – I mean, what happened?”

 

“What always happened.” She turns her head to meet his gaze, shrugging. “They had a child of their own. They didn’t need the little orphan girl any longer.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.” She glances at him again, watching him draw patterns in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “I had a lot of families. Not all of them were as kind as those two.”

 

“Still, it was nice sometimes, wasn’t it?”

 

He looks almost hopeful and River finds herself nodding. “Sometimes.”

 

“I always imagined it was.”

 

He doesn’t look at her, just keeps drawing patterns in the dirt with the toe of his boot. She can almost picture him, smaller but just as clumsy and with just as much hair, sitting on a swing just like this one with no one to push him or to catch him when he leapt from his seat in midair. River bites her lip.

 

“Sometimes I wished they would all just go away,” she admits. “Being passed around like a bloody hot potato wasn’t exactly a little girl’s idea of stability.”

 

“No, I imagine not.” He frowns at his shoes. “I never thought of it like that. I just knew that some children got to leave, to be a part of a family even if only for a little while. I wanted that. Blimey, I think I still want it.” He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, tipping his head back to gaze up at the stars. “I’ve never really belonged anywhere.”

 

As she gazes at his profile, hazel eyes searching the sky above him, River feels her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. The words leave her in a rush before she has time to stop and examine them. “You belong here.”

 

Dropping his eyes to look at her, lips parted in surprise, the Doctor asks, “Yeah?”

 

She feels her cheeks heat up and quickly amends, “In Leadworth. With Amy and Rory, I mean. Your friends.”

 

“Right.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “Of course.”

 

River closes her eyes. “And me.”

 

She doesn’t look at him but even behind her eyes, she can see his smile.

 

They trade stories about their travels and about Amy and Rory – his adventures growing up with them and hers when she met them in university – until dawn. They watch the sunrise from the top of the jungle gym and River catches him every time he lets go to wave his arms about and nearly falls off.

 

She insists on driving his motorcycle back to her flat and ignores the Doctor’s protests until he huffs and climbs onto the back. As she speeds through the nearly empty streets, he clings to her waist and yelps at her to slow down. She laughs and steps on the gas. By the time she slows to a stop in front of her flat, his hair is even more of a mess than usual but he’s grinning breathlessly at her. His eyes shine as he looks at her, and she wonders if belonging might feel something like this.

 

Brushing his fringe out of his eyes for him, River grins. “Thanks for the ice cream.”

 

He nods, still gazing at her. “It was my pleas-”

 

She drags him in by his collar, clinging to the front of his jacket and breathing in the scent of leather as his mouth moves softly, eagerly against her own. It doesn’t occur to her until later, falling into bed with a smile on her face, that she didn’t have to kiss him. There was no one around to see.


	4. i can't believe it's not love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You didn’t know?” Amy glances toward the back garden, wincing. “Bugger, I shouldn’t have said -”
> 
> “Amy, what are you talking about? The Doctor – John -” River swallows thickly and tries again, struggling to keep her voice quiet and even. “He can’t be in love with me.”

“God, this wine is fantastic.”

 

“You think every wine is fantastic.”

 

Amy moves the bottle just out of her reach, frowning. “Not true. Only the delicious ones.”

 

Prying the bottle from her hands, River pours her own glass and puts it aside. “Does Rory know he has competition?”

 

“Way before he married me.” Amy beams, taking another long sip. “Let me have it while I can, yeah?”

 

“While you can?”

 

Amy nods, glancing around the kitchen to make sure they’re alone. John and Rory are still outside, circling the new grill like if they stare long enough, it’ll start to make sense. Satisfied, Amy leans in across the table and confides quietly, “We’ve decided we’re going to start trying.”

 

“Trying?” River furrows her brow. “Trying for – _oh_. Oh my god, really?”

 

Amy nods, smiling so widely River feels her chest ache. “Really. Rory is so excited. I mean, I am too but you know he’s always wanted kids. He was the one who wanted to play house when we were little. I was the one insisting we were astronauts.”

 

“You know, I always hated pretending to be an astronaut.”

 

Amy sniffs. “You were probably just bitter because your hair would never fit in the helmet.”

 

Laughing, River reaches across the table and takes her hand. “Congratulations, Amy. Really. You’re going to be an amazing mum.”

 

“Slow down, I’m not pregnant yet.” Amy bites her lip, turning her hand over and lacing her fingers through River’s. “You really think so?”

 

River shakes her head. “I really know so.”

 

“What do you know?”

 

They both turn to watch the Doctor wander in from the back garden, looking ruffled and agitated. Still outside, Rory pokes experimentally at the grill with one foot. Pulling her hand away from River’s and straightening in her chair with a scowl, Amy says, “I know I’m bloody starving. What’s the hold up, Raggedy Man?”

 

“The manual seems to have been misplaced. Well, I might have accidentally fed it to the neighbor’s dog but no one is casting blame here.” He rummages through a drawer by the kitchen sink and emerges triumphant with a lighter. “Patience, Pond. We’ll be feasting in no time.”

 

Amy harrumphs. “I certainly hope it doesn’t take this long when you two are making dinner.”

 

“We two?” He glances between River and Amy. “What we two?”

 

“Us two.” River rolls her eyes. “We’re hosting dinner on Sunday, sweetie, remember?”

 

“You told me that already, didn’t you?”

 

“I did.”

 

He hums, wandering up behind her and leaning on the back of her chair. She tilts her head back to look up at him and he grins. “I’m sorry, dear. I forgot.”

 

“You weren’t listening.”

 

“I was! I find everything you say absolutely fascinating.” He taps her on the nose. “Sometimes I just get a bit… distracted. Has anyone ever told you your eyes look exactly like a river? All swirly and pretty and -”

 

Amy snorts.

 

“Oi, hush.” He frowns. “No steak for you, Pond.”

 

“And what about me?”

 

He glances down at River with a grin. “You can have whatever you like.”

 

“Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

Amy sticks a finger in her mouth and makes a gagging noise.

 

The Doctor glares at her, leans in to press a smacking kiss to River’s forehead, and flounces off into the back garden again. River doesn’t realize just how wide her smile is until she looks away from him and back to Amy. She purses her lips immediately, pressing her fingers over her mouth for good measure. “Oh, stop it.”

 

Amy breaks into a grin, shaking her head. “No, I’m happy for you!”

 

“So you’ve said.”

 

“I mean, it’s completely gross to watch but for your sakes, I’ll learn to put up with it.”

 

“You’re a saint among Scots,” River says dryly.

 

Amy hums her agreement around a sip of wine. “I knew you would be perfect together if you just gave him a chance.”

 

River shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Every now and then, this plan she concocted starts to feel less like a punishment for Amy and more like a sign of what a rubbish friend she is. As much as she hates it when Amy meddles, she only ever does it because she wants River to be as happy as she is with Rory. ““Well it takes two to tango, Amy. He had to be just as willing.”

 

Amy snorts. “Seriously? Of course he was willing. He’s only been in love with you since the day I introduced you two.”

 

Head shooting up, River stares at her, mouth agape. “He what?”

 

“You didn’t know?” Amy glances toward the back garden, wincing. “Bugger, I shouldn’t have said -”

 

“Amy, what are you talking about? The Doctor – John -” River swallows thickly and tries again, struggling to keep her voice quiet and even. “He can’t be in love with me.”

 

Amy shakes her head, still looking guilty. “He’s been pining for years, River. That’s why I was so glad you went out with him. I’ve wanted to set you up for ages but he didn’t think you’d ever look at him twice. And now you’re just as mad about him as he is about you. Crazy, isn’t it?”

 

Years. John Smith, Amy Pond’s silly childhood friend, the Doctor, has been in love with her for _years_. Looking back now, it’s easy to see – all the moony-eyed gazes, the wide grins, the way he never retaliates when she snaps at him. He always holds her so tenderly, always looks at her like she’s some bloody miracle. She thought he was just acting. She should have known the idiot was entirely incapable of hiding. The man is a _rubbish_ liar.

 

As is sensing her gaze on him, John looks up from his place at the grill next to Rory, beaming at her and waving. River waves mechanically back. Before this whole ridiculous charade began, she never treated him with anything other than thinly veiled annoyance. How could he ever have fallen in love?

 

“Yeah,” she finally agrees. “Crazy.”

 

**-**

 

“Have those mushrooms done something to offend you?”

 

She starts at the touch of the Doctor’s hand over hers, slowing her rapid motions with the knife. Glancing down at their hands, she finds the mushrooms scattered across her cutting board, chopped quite a bit finer than she’d meant to. Chest pressed into her back and chin on her shoulder, the Doctor bemoans, “Poor things never stood a chance.”

 

Rolling her eyes, River elbows him gently away from her, forcing back a smile. “They were giving me cheek.”

 

He dodges her elbow with a grin. “Is that a threat, Song?”

 

“When I’m threatening you, you’ll know it, sweetie.”

 

He snorts, wandering away from her side grumbling under his breath about scary Ponds and Rivers. She’ll miss this when it’s over. Funny, a few weeks ago, she could barely stand to have a drink with him and now, she isn’t quite sure what she’ll do when he’s no longer invading her office or interrupting her sleep to watch the sunrise. In such a short time, he has somehow managed to permeate every single part of her life and once he’s gone, she can’t help thinking everything will feel a little emptier.

 

He winks at her from across the kitchen, in the middle of rummaging through drawers for the corkscrew. She manages a smile and looks away, busying herself with scooping up the mushrooms and carrying them to the saucepan. She’ll fill the empty spaces easily enough. There are dusty, ancient places still to visit and blokes in pubs she hasn’t met yet. She’ll be fine. And John will thank her for saving him the inevitable regret of being with her. They’d kill each other in a month.

 

The sound of the buzzer interrupts her thoughts and she quickly sprinkles the rest of the mushrooms into the sauce as the Doctor dashes for the door to let Amy and Rory in. She wipes her hands on her apron and follows after him, reaching the entryway just as Amy and Rory hang their coats.

 

“It smells amazing in here.” Amy wraps her arms around River, squeezing her tightly. “Look at you, all Martha Stewart in your apron. Are you actually cooking?”

 

River plucks at her apron with a shake of her head. “I’m afraid I’m only the face of the operation. John is the chef du jour.”

 

“River is a brilliant assistant,” he insists, taking her hand to snag her away from Amy and to his side. “Her stirring skills are unmatched and I’m genuinely frightened of her chopping expertise.”

 

Forcing a smile, River squeezes his hand. “Thank you, sweetie.”

 

“Oi, no being precious until I’ve had enough wine to stomach it.” Amy turns to Rory, motioning him forward. “Where’s the gift?”

 

River watches Rory hand her a square shaped package. “Gift?”

 

“A dinner party gift,” Rory explains.

 

Amy beams, handing it to the Doctor.

 

As he rips into it eagerly, River frowns. “Since when do we have dinner party gifts?”

 

Rory shrugs helplessly, glancing at his wife. “Since now.”

 

The Doctor tears away the last of the paper and stares at the picture frame in his hands. River leans into his side, peering at it. It’s the picture she had sent Amy that day at the petting zoo. She’s cuddled into his side, her lips pressed to his cheek. She looks happy. Even more curious, John looks happy to be with her. He looks just as in love as Amy claims he has always been – his grin huge and goofy, his eyes lit up as River kisses his cheek.

 

“Look at us,” the Doctor laughs. “We’re adorable.”

 

River opens her mouth to agree but nothing comes out. She tears her eyes away from the photograph quickly and finds Rory watching her with a small frown. She musters up a smile for him but he’s Rory, the calm to Amy’s hurricane. He always knows. He says nothing, of course. He never would in front of everyone. Instead, he does what he does best. He distracts anyone else from noticing what he has. “So what was with the birds, Doctor?”

 

Amy grins. “Were they lovebirds?”

 

“Swallows,” River answers, lowering her eyes back to the picture frame still in the Doctor’s grasp. “They signify loyalty and freedom. No matter how far they fly, they always return home. Two of them is a sign of devotion between soul mates.”

 

John turns his head to gape at her, eyes wide.

 

Amy grins, leaning in to Rory’s side. “Oh my god, when did you become such a sap, Raggedy Man?”

 

He ignores her, staring at River. “You looked it up?”

 

River nods. “I did.”

 

He had been so reluctant to tell her about the swallows that she knew it must mean something. After Amy’s confession the other night, she couldn’t put off her research any longer. What she’d found had only solidified what she already knew. This game had gone on long enough.

 

“All right, enough standing about,” she says, turning from John’s terrified stare to smile at her friends. She makes a shooing motion with her hands, chasing them off. “Into the dining room, you two. I’ll have John bring the wine.”

 

The moment they disappear into the dining room, River turns on her heel and walks back into the kitchen. Behind her, she can hear the Doctor stumbling after her. She goes right to the block of parmesan sitting on the counter, picking up the cheese grater. John hovers behind her as she moves to the saucepan, grating cheese over it with grim determination.

 

“River -”

 

“I think we should do it tonight.”

 

He sounds mildly alarmed as he asks, “What?”

 

She sighs. “Not that.” Taking a deep breath, she lets it out through her nose and decides to just say it. When did she become such a sodding coward? “I think it’s time to break up.”

 

The sudden sound of silence in the kitchen is startling. River keeps grating cheese over the sauce and does not turn around, certain that if she does, she’ll be met with those sad puppy eyes of his that will surely make her take it all back. She can’t do that. Finally, the Doctor begins quietly, “Look, if this is about the bloody face paint, I didn’t -”

 

“It’s not about the face paint, John.” She closes her eyes, steeling herself. “I’m just tired of all this. I’d like to get back to my life instead of pretending to have one with you, alright?”

 

The silence that stretches between them now makes her throat close up.

 

“Oh,” he says, so softly she barely hears him. “Well. Sorry to have been such a bother.”

 

She listens to him pick up the wine and the bottle opener on the counter behind her and does not open her eyes until the sound of his footsteps fades away. Her gaze is blurry as she stares down at the sauce sizzling in the pan and she blinks hurriedly, sniffing. It would never have worked anyway.

 

That doesn’t make it any easier. Dinner is positively rife with tension. Even Amy senses it, glancing between River and the Doctor throughout dinner with a puzzled frown on her face. They refuse to look at each other, even when they speak. River has two glasses of wine and eats very little. John pushes his food around his plate and pouts, slouched in his seat.

 

As Amy swallows her last bite of pasta, she exchanges a glance with Rory and says, “That was delicious.” She elbows Rory. “Wasn’t it?”

 

“Amazing,” he agrees, nodding. “You two really work well together.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Roranicus.” It’s the first thing John has said in so long it startles River into looking up. He’s staring right at her. “River works alone. I’m merely a threat to her self-imposed solitude.”

 

She stiffens.

 

He raises a thin brow at her, challenging.

 

Fine. She lifts her chin. If he wants their breakup argument to be this petty and ridiculous then _fine_. “You’re hardly a threat, honey. You’re an overgrown man-child who dips his chips in root beer. You’re not nearly as tempting as you seem to think you are.”

 

He flushes all the way up to the tips of his ears and she watches in silent satisfaction as his jaw clenches. “And you are not half as mysterious as you seem to believe.”

 

She glares.

 

Amy looks back and forth between them with wide eyes, probably wondering what happened to the happy couple in the picture frame. Rory keeps his eyes fastened on his plate, like if he stares at his leftovers hard enough, he’ll disappear. 

 

River sneers. “Well, I’m sure you would know all about how to be mysterious, wouldn’t you, _Doctor_?”

 

He huffs out a soft, biting laugh. “Are you seriously going to criticize my name? You?”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Your name is _River Song_.” He scoffs, watching her with dark, wounded eyes. “Why didn’t you just call yourself Princess Singing Creek and have done with it?”

 

“And John Smith is so much better? Was Nameless Orphan already taken?”

 

John flinches and she feels guilty even without Amy’s admonishing “ _River”_.

 

She clenches her teeth. It’s too late to take it back now. At least it will lend a little credibility to this farce of a breakup. Clinging to her fury, cloth napkin clenched in her fist, she rises from her chair and sends it skittering backward. Glowering down at the Doctor, who refuses to look at her, she says, “You can let yourself out.” She throws her napkin onto the table and turns to their gaping friends. “Amy, Rory, thank you for coming.”

 

Escaping into the kitchen, River leans all of her weight into the island counter, bracing her arms out in front of her and bowing her head. Moments later, she hears door slams shut. There. She breathes. It’s done. She’s free. She blinks away the sting in her eyes and tells herself this is what she wanted. The heavy weight in her chest doesn’t feel like freedom but it must be. What else could it be? It was only ever a game. It never meant anything.

 

She hears footsteps behind her and sighs. “I’m not in the mood to talk, Amy.”

 

“Amy’s not exactly in the mood to talk to you either.” Somehow, the quiet disapproval in Rory’s voice is worse than even Amy’s Scottish ire. “What was that, River?”

 

“Nothing. He’s an idiot.” She reaches for a dishcloth and moves to the sink, turning on the water. “It’s over.”

 

“Don’t say that.” He walks up behind her, leaning against the counter and watching as she picks up a dish and starts scrubbing. She refuses to look at him, clenching her jaw to keep her chin from quivering. “It was just a row. Every couple rows.”

 

River shrugs, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn pasta stain with vigor. “Where’s Amy?”

 

He hesitates. “She went after the Doctor. He was… he needed her.”

 

She ignores the sharp pain in her chest, nodding once. “I understand.”

 

“What happened? You were fine before dinner.” Rory picks up the dishcloth and reaches for a clean plate in the drainer, drying it. “Was it the picture?”

 

“It wasn’t the picture.”

 

“Then what was it? Because one minute the two of you are as sappy as ever and the next you’re deliberately trying to hurt his feelings and kicking him out.”

 

“Nothing happened, Rory.” She gives up on the pasta saucepan and leaves it to soak, picking up a wine glass. “I just realized we could never work. I’ve always hated him.”

 

He takes the glass from her before her grip shatters it, gently drying it and putting it aside. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

 

“Yes, it is.” She doesn’t need more soap but she uses it anyway, lathering her washcloth until there are enough bubbles to drown in. “He wears stupid clothes and his hair is a disaster. He has no respect for my profession and yet has no real job of his own. He acts like a child and everything he eats is disgusting -”

 

“And you look at him like he hung the bloody stars.”

 

Shying away from Rory’s hard stare, River blinks at the bubbles in the sink and tells herself her eyes are only stinging because she got soap in them. “I don’t.”

 

Rory sighs, that long-suffering, fatherly sigh he always gives when she’s being dense and he’s trying to be patient. “We’ve been friends for a long time, River. I know you, no matter how mysterious you or the Doctor happen to think you are.”

 

She bristles, frowning.

 

“I know when you’re too drunk to stand, even though you think you’re brilliant at hiding it from me.” He smiles, picking up another plate to dry. “I know that voice you get on the phone when you’ve gotten into trouble and you need me to pick you up. I know how you look when you’re thinking about one of your horrible foster families.”

 

River blinks hard, biting her lip as she looks away.

 

Hand cupping her elbow, Rory squeezes gently. “And I know when you’re scared.”

 

She stiffens, stepping out of his grip. “What do I have to be afraid of?” She turns off the faucet, snatching the towel from him to dry her hands.

 

“Being happy.”

 

She lifts her eyes to his in surprise, stung.

 

Rory scrubs a hand over his face, watching her with soft eyes. “You remind me a lot of Amy, you know, before we were married. Scared to death of commitment, of actually needing someone else. But she loved me and I knew it. So I waited.”

 

“I am not Amy, Rory.” She wraps her arms around her middle and stares at her shoes. “And John is certainly not you.”

 

“Thank God for that.” He snorts and she glances up, smiling. “But he loves you, River. He isn’t trying to push you into anything you aren’t ready for. I know him. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. He’ll wait for you to be ready, if that’s what you need.”

 

Smile fading, River shakes her head. “I don’t want him to wait for me.”

 

“That’s your decision to make.” Rory nods slowly, shrugging. At his acquiescence, River relaxes, dropping her arms. “But I think you’re worth waiting for.”

 

This time, when her eyes fill up, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her close, kissing her temple. River curls a hand into his shirt and breathes, managing a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

He laughs quietly. “Any time.”


	5. whisper sweet words in my ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She scowls, tipping her salad into the trash bin beside her desk. She isn’t pining. She just isn’t hungry. She hasn’t been hungry for days. It has nothing to do with him or the Ponds or anything at all really. Appetites fluctuate.

By Wednesday of the next week, her productivity has improved by leaps and bounds. In an effort not to think about anything else, she immerses herself in her job. She catches up on grading papers, writes more than half of the journal article due this weekend, and organizes her desk drawers. Twice. There aren’t many perks to being avoided by her friends but efficiency is definitely one of them.

 

She spends her lunch hour in her office, picking at her salad until the lettuce grows soggy and the ranch dressing starts to congeal in the bottom of the plastic bowl. Rory would say she’s pining. He would certainly know what pining looks like. She scowls, tipping her salad into the trash bin beside her desk.

 

She isn’t pining. She just isn’t hungry. She hasn’t been hungry for days. It has nothing to do with him or the Ponds or anything at all really. Appetites fluctuate.

 

Slumping forward across her desk, River stares at the lecture notes in front of her and sighs. She hasn’t canceled a class once since her tenure began, not even when she was so hungover she had to hang onto the podium to keep herself upright. She isn’t about to start now just because she’s… _not_ pining. She lifts her gaze from her notes with a disgruntled frown and her eyes fall on the nameplate at the edge of her desk.

 

There’s a crack just along the edge, where the very tip of the corner is missing. It should irritate her. John was always fiddling with the damn thing, dropping it with his stupid clumsy hands. For some reason, the sight of it only makes her chest hurt. Huffing, River looks away from it before she tips it into the trash along with the salad.

 

All she wanted was for him to go away so she could do her work during the day and go back to shagging good-looking blokes at night. And look at her, sitting here and not pining. “Pathetic,” she grumbles to herself.

 

“Well, can’t argue with that.”

 

She looks up so sharply she smacks her head on the wall behind her. Wincing, she brings a hand up to the back of her neck and stares at long-legged woman leaning against her doorway, smiling awkwardly. “Amy. What are you doing here?”

 

Amy glances at the ground, pursing her lips, and looks up again with a shrug. “Thought I might drop in for a visit. Am I interrupting something?”

 

“No, not at all.” River straightens in her chair and makes a half-hearted attempt to clear her desk, waving Amy in. “Sit, please.”

 

They haven’t spoken since that dreadful dinner party. River tried calling but Amy never answered her mobile and Rory insisted she just needed time to cool off. It hadn’t really come as a surprise. River had known if given the choice, Amy would always side with her childhood friend. Having spent most of her life as the second choice, she was almost used to it by now.

 

Amy settles into the chair in front of her desk and River folds her hands in her lap, struggling not to fidget. Since the day she met Amy, they’ve gotten along like old friends. She felt like she’d known Amy her whole life after an hour of conversation. Amy had just decided they were going to be friends and that was that. There was no arguing with a Pond once they made a decision. It has never even once been awkward between them. Until now.

 

Amy heaves a great sigh, frowning at her. “Look, I’m just going to say it. I’m really angry at you.”

 

River nods, biting her lip. “I know.”

 

“You broke up with my best friend over nothing, River. You hurt him. And ever since we were little, anyone who hurt my best friend got a punch in the face.” Amy tugs at her red hair, watching River avoid her gaze. “But you’re my best friend too.”

 

Glancing up hopefully, River waits, barely breathing.

 

“And I love you.” Amy gives her a small smile. “Even when you’re being a jerk.”

 

Feeling her eyes fill up, River looks away again, blinking. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Blowing out a quiet breath through her nose, Amy slumps a little in her seat, tapping bright yellow nails against the desk. “And I guess it’s sort of my fault too. You kept saying you hated him but I thought I could change your mind. Clearly I was wrong.” She wrinkles her nose. “God, I know you love to gloat but don’t make me say that again.”

 

River shakes her head slowly, silent and unwilling to admit – when Amy is finally speaking to her again – that she hadn’t been wrong at all. It would be best to just move on from the subject entirely before she says something either stupid or incriminating. “How is he?”

 

Or both.

 

Amy narrows her eyes, her nails tapping rapidly against the desk now. “Why?”

 

Busying herself with straightening the papers on her desk, River shrugs. Since their breakup, she hasn’t heard from John once. Not that she expected to. But he doesn’t bother her in the cafeteria any more. He doesn’t invade her office. He doesn’t send her random texts in the wee hours of the morning about the bad dream he just had. Cut off from all the little nuisances that once made up his presence in her life, she can’t help but wonder. “Just because we’ve broken up doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

 

Finally dropping her scrutinizing gaze to study her nails, Amy says, “He’s fine, considering. As you can imagine, pretty eager to get the hell out of Leadworth.”

 

River blinks at her, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach. “Sorry?”

 

“He never sticks around for long.” Amy shrugs, avoiding her eyes. “And now that things are over between you two, I think he’s ready to move on again.”

 

Suddenly and inexplicably finding it very difficult to breathe, River manages a soft, “When?”

 

“As soon as the semester ends, I think.” Amy frowns at her nails. “Handed in his final notice and everything.”

 

Leaving. The Doctor is leaving town in a matter of weeks and God knows when he’ll come back, if he ever will. No more avoiding him in the university corridors, no more sneaking peeks at him at lunch in the cafeteria. He’ll be just… gone. A few weeks ago, she would have been ecstatic. Now, she feels a keen sense of loss, as if something vital – something that belonged to her – has been snatched away. “Oh.”

 

Finally lifting her head, Amy smiles. “Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later – you know what he’s like. Always off somewhere. At least we won’t have to worry about all that awkwardness when we’re all together, yeah?”

 

Swallowing tightly, River presses her fingers to her lips and manages a faint nod.

 

Amy tilts her head, studying her. “You’re still coming over Saturday, aren’t you? It’s Rory’s turn to make breakfast.””

 

“Of course.” River smiles weakly, wondering why it hurts so much to lose something that was never supposed to be hers anyway. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

 

-

 

By the time Saturday arrives, River is drowning in midterms she hasn’t graded and the prospect of breakfast with the Ponds isn’t as enticing as it usually is. She wants to stay home and curl up on her sofa with a red pen in hand. She wants to forget the last few weeks ever happened. She forces herself out of bed anyway. It wouldn’t do to incur Amy’s wrath again so soon.

 

She throws on what Rory affectionately calls her hangover outfit and pulls her wild hair up on top of her head, heading for the Pond home with the morning’s newspaper tucked under her arm. Amy answers the door, fully dressed and wide-awake instead of her usual greeting in a fluffy pink robe, yawning and clutching a cup of tea.

 

River blinks at her, startled. “Well, good morning Starshine.”

 

Amy blatantly eyes her leggings and oversized sweater. “Out late were you?”

 

“Oh shut up.” River swats at her with the newspaper and steps around her into the house. As she hangs up her coat, she sniffs the air and grins. “God, it smells amazing in here. Has Rory been taking cooking classes?”

 

Amy bites her lip. “Well -”

 

“No, I said _whisk_.”

 

“I am whisking!”

 

“You’re stirring!”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“The quality of your eggs, Roranicus! Honestly.”

 

Frozen in place, River stares down the hallway toward the kitchen in quiet horror. John is here. John is in Amy and Rory’s kitchen, shooing Rory away from the stove with exasperated grumbling. She swallows, turning accusatory eyes on Amy.

 

She winces. “The Doctor is sort of like taking a cooking class. I mean, he did work with Gordon Ramsey that one time in -”

 

“You are unbelievable,” River hisses. Growling under her breath, she turns back to the coat rack and yanks at her coat, nearly sending the whole thing toppling to the floor. All that bloody effort and Amy is still meddling in her life like she knows best. The stupid plan hadn’t even accomplished anything.

 

“Oi!” Amy steadies the coat rack with one hand and grabs River’s elbow with the other, stopping her from putting on her coat. “He spent the night! He was too drunk to drive home.”

 

River yanks her arm from Amy’s grasp. “And I wonder who made sure of that?”

 

Amy glares. “Look, I just thought -”

 

“Amy? Is that River?” Rory steps out of the kitchen wearing a frilly pink apron, sees River glaring at his wife and asks, “Everything alright?”

 

“Fine.” River nods stiffly, clutching her coat. “I was just leaving.”

 

“But you just got here.” Rory frowns. “And I’m making your favorite dessert crepes. Well, the Doctor is making them. I’m supervising though and oh my god.” He turns to Amy with wide, panicked eyes. “We forgot to tell her he was going to be here, didn’t we?”

 

Amy squints. “Just a wee bit.”

 

The sound of approaching footsteps makes them all wince. “Rory, get back in here! The crepes are burning -” The Doctor stops in the doorway, eyes widening the moment he sees her. “Oh. Erm, hello there.”

 

He offers her an awkward wave, eyes darting to the floor, and River feels a lump form in her throat. “Hello.”

 

A beat of heavy silence passes between them.

 

“Well, that’s done then.” Amy grabs Rory’s hand and very nearly yanks him with her toward the dining room. “We’re going to have a sit down in here. Help the Doctor finish in the kitchen, River? Great, thanks!”

 

River stares after her long after she disappears into the next room, wondering if it’s too late in life to find new friends. She can feel the Doctor’s eyes on her but she keeps staring after Amy and Rory, reluctant to meet his gaze.

 

He shuffles in that nervous way of his, fiddling with the towel in his hands. “How are you?”

 

_Miserable_ , she wants to say. _Busy_. _Tired_. _Hating myself for missing a nuisance like_ _you_.

 

“I’m alright,” she says instead. She does the brave thing and looks at him. He looks paler somehow, his floppy hair unusually limp. He seems as tired as she is but somehow, even under the weariness, she can still see that old, lingering delight – the smile in his eyes whenever he sees her. Funny, she never noticed it before. Had it always been there?

 

He scratches his cheek, sighing. “River -”

 

She shakes her head, throwing her coat back over the coat rack. “I should check on those crepes before they burn.”

 

“Right, sure. But -”

 

She hurries past him, escaping into the kitchen. It’s only with him out of sight that she breathes easily once more, staring at Amy and Rory’s kitchen blankly. She shouldn’t be here. She should turn around and go home before she does something stupid like tell John she’s sorry or she misses him. He’s leaving and she hates him and it just doesn’t _matter_.

 

River breathes in, smells the burning crepes, and makes a dash for the stove, cursing under her breath. She turns the heat down and scrapes the pan clean, grabbing ingredients to start all over. It isn’t until she’s pouring the new batter onto the still sizzling pan that she notices the Doctor standing in the doorway, scuffing his shoe against the tiled floor as he watches her.

 

There is no getting away from him now. He has her cornered here in the kitchen and she can’t escape again without looking like a coward. If there is one thing she won’t stand for, it’s looking cowardly in front of her nemesis. Former nemesis. She reaches for the whisk on the counter with a shaking hand. “If you’re going to stand there, make yourself useful. The eggs need beating.”

 

He doesn’t move. “River -”

 

“Fine, don’t help.” She drops the whisk back onto the counter and picks up the spatula, scooping the crepes from the pan and onto a plate. “But don’t expect to take any of the credit.”

 

“ _River_.”

 

“I didn’t mean it.” She bites her lip and refuses to turn around and look at him. “What I said about your name.”

 

“Yeah. I know.” She can hear him fidgeting. “Me neither.”

 

“Good. Then let’s just forget about -”

 

“We still need to talk.” He puffs his hair out of his eyes with a shrug. “At least, that’s what Pond says.”

 

“You’re sorry, I’m sorry. There’s nothing else to say. We broke up.” She turns the heat off the stove, carrying the pan to the sink. When she turns on the faucet, steam rises from the pan and the hissing noise it makes as it cools covers the sound of her swallowing noisily. “It was part of the plan, remember? Fat lot of good it did us.”

 

“And why did you get to decide when that breakup happened, River?” He sighs, a growled, exasperated noise that makes her heart jump into her throat. “I wasn’t ready.”

 

“Ready?” She finally turns to look at him, too incredulous to be affected by his ridiculous hair and his near constant blushing. “It was never supposed to be permanent!”

 

He throws up his arms, bursting out, “And why not?”  


She stares at him.

 

Red-faced, he scratches his cheek and sighs at the floor. “I mean, yes, I’m a bit of a clumsy oaf and I never sit still and I haven’t quite grown into my chin -”

 

“Or your ears.”

 

He lifts his head, glaring. “But I’m bloody mad about you and you know it, River. Have been for ages. You insult me and I smile. You look at me and I can feel my face getting red. Three years ago when I visited for Christmas, you smiled at me and I spilled hot chocolate all down my front. I’ve not exactly been subtle.”

 

She shakes her head, reaching a hand behind her to grip the edge of the sink, tightening her fingers around it until her knuckles ache. “Stop, John.”

 

“Stop what? Telling you how I feel?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Why?” He stares at her for a long moment, his eyes soft and bottomless. “Does it scare you?”

 

She looks away. “I’m not afraid of anything. And certainly not clumsy idiots.”

 

He laughs. “It scares me too, you know.”

 

No it didn’t. It couldn’t. “Then why are you here?”

 

“I like big, scary things. Run right toward them – always have. And you are the biggest, scariest thing I have ever known.” His grin softens when she risks another glance at him, a little insulted. “I know you never meant for this to happen, River, but it has.”

 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You don’t feel anything for me?”

 

“Not a thing.”

 

His eyes bore into her. “So those kisses? The pet names? The way you smiled at me? It was all for the sake of our little game?”

 

She nods once, clenching her jaw. “That’s right.”

 

“OK, fair enough.” At the surrender in his voice, River relaxes somewhat, even as her traitorous heart sinks. He’s finally giving up. “But you did kiss me when we were alone. And you called me sweetie when no one was around to hear.”

 

“I was getting into character.”

 

He shakes his head. “Are you getting into character now? Because I’m pretty sure we broke up rather spectacularly last week.”

 

“Yes, and?”

 

“And you’re still looking at me like I matter to you.”

 

Hands trembling, River tightens her grip on the edge of the counter. “You’re imagining things.”

 

“I don’t think I am.” He takes a step toward her and her heart leaps in panic but he moves no further, standing there in the middle of her kitchen and watching her with those damnable eyes. “And surely you’ve noticed whenever you’re in the room I can’t look away. Blimey, you’re everything I never even knew I wanted until I met you. You’re mad and maddening and fun and I panic whenever you even look at my motorcycle.”

 

She bites back a snort of laughter, avoiding his gaze.

 

He takes another step.

 

She tenses.

 

“I’m not going to get bored and run off to Indonesia. Not this time.”

 

Scoffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s not what Amy says.”

 

“What?”

 

“You don’t have to hide it, Doctor. She already told me you’re leaving at the end of the semester. She said -” Catching his blank, puzzled stare, River stops short and sighs through her nose. “She was having me on, wasn’t she?”

 

The Doctor grins, slow and amused. “A bit, yeah.” As River glares at the floor, he sobers, his smile fading. “I’m not going anywhere. Not when you’re here.”

 

He takes another step. River refuses to let her knees tremble, standing her ground.  “I don’t want you to stay for me.”

 

His frown is positively obstinate. “It’s my decision. I’ll stay for whatever reason I like.” He stands in front of her now, so close she can smell the flour clinging to his shirt and see the light in his eyes she only recently realized is just for her. “I’m tired of running away.” His hand cradles her cheek, all calloused palms and gentle fingertips. “You’re my swallow, River. It’s time I came home.”

 

She bites her lip, too caught in his soft gaze to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “Stop,” she pleads, and her voice catches.

 

He shakes his head, eyes fastened on her mouth. “I won’t.”

 

He leans in and when their lips touch, River knows there isn’t going to be any more running – not unless they’re holding hands. He’s still the man she used to barely tolerate. He’ll still drink root beer in pubs and eat a disturbing amount of fish fingers. He’ll trip over thin air and insist he’s a much better driver than he actually is. But he looks at her as though none of his travels ever showed him a glimpse of anything half as divine as she. He likes her even when she’s stealing face paint or calling him an idiot. He kisses her with such careful devotion, like nothing has ever been so important and he has to get it just right.

 

And all those things she couldn’t stand? She’s starting to like them too.

 

When he pulls away, River gazes up at him breathlessly, hands fisted in his collar. “Don’t stop.”

 

Nudging his nose playfully against hers, he smiles, bright and wide and perfectly goofy. “I won’t.”

 

-

 

Amy looks up hopefully as Rory tiptoes back into the dining room. “Well?” She asks, bouncing anxiously. “Are they alright?”

 

A little flushed, Rory nods. “Fine. But we should go.”

 

“What? Why – _oh_.” She wrinkles her nose. “In the kitchen? Our kitchen?”

 

“My eyes will never recover.” He swallows. “And neither will our kitchen sink.”

 

She grimaces but only for a moment. It’s impossible not to feel giddy right now, no matter the debauchery currently taking place in the next room. River is exhausting. Amy was beginning to think she’d never give in. She stands and pushes her chair in with a flourish. “We did it, Mr. Pond.”

 

“Erm, no.” Hand at the small of her back, he guides her toward the door. “You did it, Mrs. Pond.”

 

“ _You_ were the one to suggest setting them up. _You_ were the one who said we should ditch them at the pub.”

 

“Yeah, but you were the one to orchestrate the whole thing.”

 

Amy frowns as he ushers her into the foyer. “Are you saying you’re the brains and I’m your henchman?”

 

“Henchwoman.”

 

“Good boy.” As the front door shuts behind them, she’s pretty sure she hears the sound of the Doctor giggling as pans hit the floor with almighty crash. Cringing, Amy leans into her husband. “You realize we have to get a new kitchen now?”

 

“IKEA?”

 

“Yes, please.”


End file.
